There was once a farmer who had three sons and one little daughter. The eldest son was a studious boy who learned so much out of books that the farmer said: We must send Mihailo to school and make a priest of him. The second boy was a... Read more of The Laughing Prince at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

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



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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