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Smoking Poems

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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



SUBLIME TOBACCO.








But here the herald of the self-same mouth
Came breathing o'er the aromatic South,
Not like a "bed of violets" on the gale,
But such as wafts its cloud o'er grog or ale,
Borne from a short, frail pipe, which yet had blown
Its gentle odors over either zone,
And, puff'd where'er minds rise or waters roll,
Had wafted smoke from Portsmouth to the Pole,
Opposed its vapor as the lightning flash'd,
And reek'd, 'midst mountain billows unabashed,
To AEolus a constant sacrifice,
Through every change of all the varying skies.
And what was he who bore it? I may err,
But deem him sailor or philosopher.
Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest;
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opiums and his brides;
Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Though not less loved, in Wapping on the Strand;
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties,--give me a cigar!

LORD BYRON:

_The Island, Canto ii., Stanza 19._





Next: SMOKING AWAY.

Previous: THE DREAMER'S PIPE.



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