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Smoking Poems

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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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