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Smoking Poems

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

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

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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



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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