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Smoking Poems

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...



SONG OF THE SMOKE-WREATHS.








_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._


Not like clouds that cap the mountains,
Not like mists that mask the sea,
Not like vapors round the fountains,--
Soft and clear and warm are we.

Hear the tempest, how its minions
Tear the clouds and heap the snows!
No storm-rage is in our pinions;
Who knows us, 'tis peace he knows.

Soaring from the burning censers,
Stealing forth through all the air,
Hovering as the mild dispensers
Over you of blisses rare,

Softly float we, softly blend we,
Tinted from the deep blue sky,
Scented from the myrrh-lands, bend we
Downward to you ere we die.

Ease we bring, and airy fancies,
Sober thoughts with visions gay,
Peace profound with daring glances
Through the clouds to endless day.

Not like clouds that cap the mountains,
Not like mists that mask the sea,
Not like vapors round the fountains,--
Soft and clear and warm are we.

L.T.A., in _London Society_.





Next: SMOKE AND CHESS.

Previous: THE FARMER'S PIPE.



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