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Smoking Poems

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

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

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

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

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



THE HAPPY SMOKING-GROUND.








When that last pipe is smoked at last
And pouch and pipe put by,
And Smoked and Smoker both alike
In dust and ashes lie,
What of the Smoker? Whither passed?
Ah, will he smoke no more?
And will there be no golden cloud
Upon the golden shore?
Ah! who shall say we cry in vain
To Fate upon his hill,
For, howsoe'er we ask and ask,
He goes on smoking still.
But, surely, 'twere a bitter thing
If other men pursue
Their various earthly joys again
Beyond that distant blue,
If the poor Smoker might not ply
His peaceful passion too.
If Indian braves may still up there
On merry scalpings go,
And buried Britons rise again
With arrow and with bow,
May not the Smoker hope to take
His "cutty" from below?
So let us trust; and when at length
You lay me 'neath the yew,
Forget not, O my friends, I pray,
Pipes and tobacco too!

RICHARD LE GALLIENNE.





Next: SWEET SMOKING PIPE.

Previous: MY AFTER-DINNER CLOUD.



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