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Smoking Poems

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

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

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



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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