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Smoking Poems

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

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

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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



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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