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Smoking Poems

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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



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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