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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

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



THE BALLADE OF TOBACCO.








When verdant youth sees life afar,
And first sets out wild oats to sow,
He puffs a stiff and stark cigar,
And quaffs champagne of Mumm & Co.
He likes not smoking yet; but though
Tobacco makes him sick indeed,
Cigars and wine he can't forego,--
A slave is each man to the weed.

In time his tastes more dainty are
And delicate. Become a beau,
From out the country of the czar
He brings his cigarettes, and lo!
He sips the vintage of Bordeaux.
Thus keener relish shall succeed
The baser liking we outgrow,--
A slave is each man to the weed

When age and his own lucky star
To him perfected wisdom show,
The schooner glides across the bar,
And beer for him shall freely flow;
A pipe with genial warmth shall glow,
To which he turns in direst need,
To seek in smoke surcease of woe,--
A slave is each man to the weed.





Next: ENVOI.

Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



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