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Smoking Poems

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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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