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Smoking Poems

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...



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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