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Smoking Poems

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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

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

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

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

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...



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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