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Smoking Poems

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

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

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

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

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...

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

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



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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