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Smoking Poems

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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



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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