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Smoking Poems

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

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

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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



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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