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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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



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.





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Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



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