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Smoking Poems

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...



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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