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Smoking Poems

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

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

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

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



THE DUET.








I was smoking a cigarette;
Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey,
Were singing together a blithe duet,
And days it were better I should forget
Came suddenly back to me,--
Days when life seemed a gay masque ball,
And to love and be loved was the sum of it all.

As they sang together, the whole scene fled,
The room's rich hangings, the sweet home air,
Stately Maud, with her proud blond head,
And I seemed to see in her place instead
A wealth of blue-black hair,
And a face, ah! your face--yours, Lisette;
A face it were wiser I should forget.

We were back--well, no matter when or where;
But you remember, I know, Lisette.
I saw you, dainty and debonair,
With the very same look that you used to wear
In the days I should forget.
And your lips, as red as the vintage we quaffed,
Were pearl-edged bumpers of wine when you laughed.

Two small slippers with big rosettes
Peeped out under your kilt-skirt there,
While we sat smoking our cigarettes
(Oh, I shall be dust when my heart forgets!)
And singing that self-same air:
And between the verses, for interlude,
I kissed your throat and your shoulders nude.

You were so full of a subtle fire,
You were so warm and so sweet, Lisette;
You were everything men admire;
And there were no fetters to make us tire,
For you were--a pretty grisette.
But you loved as only such natures can,
With a love that makes heaven or hell for a man.

They have ceased singing that old duet,
Stately Maud and the tenor, McKey.
"You are burning your coat with your cigarette,
And _qu'avez vous_, dearest, your lids are wet,"
Maud says, as she leans o'er me.
And I smile, and lie to her, husband-wise,
"Oh, it is nothing but smoke in my eyes."

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.





Next: MY CIGARETTE.

Previous: IN ROTTEN ROW.



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