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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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



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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