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Smoking Poems

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...



THE FARMER'S PIPE.








Make a picture, dreamy smoke,
In my still and cosey room;
From the fading past evoke
Forms that breathe of summer's bloom.

Bashful Will and rosy Nell--
Ah, I watch them now at play
By the mossy wayside well
As I did twelve years to-day.

We were younger then, my pipe:
You are dingy now and worn;
And my fruit is more than ripe,
And my fields are brown and shorn.

Nell has merry eyes of blue,
And is timid, pure, and mild;
Will is fair and brave and true,
And a neighboring farmer's child.

Little maid is busy, too,
Making rare, fictitious pies,
Just as any wife would do,
Looking, meanwhile, wondrous wise.

Drawing water from the well,
Delving sand upon the hill,
Going here and there for Nell,--
That's her helpmate, willing Will.

Yonder, in the waning light,
Hand in hand the truants come,
Nell so fearful lest the night
Should fall around her far from home.

Fading, fading, skyward flies
This joy-picture you have limned;
Pipe of mine, the quiet skies
Of my life you leave undimmed.

Nell and Will are lovers now;
There they stray in dying light.
That's a kiss! Ah, well, somehow
Nell's no more afraid at night!

GEORGE COOPER.





Next: SONG OF THE SMOKE-WREATHS.

Previous: MY PIPE.



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