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Smoking Poems

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

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

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



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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