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Smoking Poems

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...



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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