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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...



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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