Mississippi Federal Writers Slave Autobiographies Smith Hodges, Ex-Slave, Pike County FEC Mrs. W.F. Holmes [FANNY SMITH HODGES Berglundtown, Mississippi] Fanny Smith Hodges lives in Berglundtown, in the northern part of town, in the ... Read more of Fanny Smith Hodges at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...



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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