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Smoking Poems

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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



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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