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Smoking Poems

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

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



THE LATEST CONVERT.








I've been in love some scores of times,
With Amy, Nellie, Katie, Mary--
To name them all would stretch my rhymes
From here as far as Demerary.

But each has wed some other man,--
Girls always do, I find, in real life,--
And I am left alone to scan
The horizon of my own ideal life.

I still survive. I was, I think,
Not born to run in double harness;
I did not shirk my food and drink
When Nellie married Harry Carnice.

But I am wedded to my pipe!
That faithful friend, nought can provoke it;
Should it grow cold, I gently wipe
Its mouth, then fill it, light, and smoke it.

But it is sweet to kiss; and I
Should love to kiss a wife and pet her--
She scolds? Straight to my pipe I fly;
Her scowls through fragrant smoke look better.

There's merry Maud--with her I'd dare
To brave the matrimonial ocean;
_She_ would not pout or fret, but wear
A constant smile of sweet devotion.

How know I that she will not change,
My wishes at defiance set? Oh!
(Pray this in smallest type arrange)
She smokes--at times--a cigareto.

F.W. LITTLETON HAY.





Next: CONFESSION OF A CIGAR SMOKER.

Previous: PIPE AND TOBACCO.



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