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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...



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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