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Smoking Poems

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

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

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...



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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