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Smoking Poems

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

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

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

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

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



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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