In the chair which stood before the writing-table in the middle of the room sat the figure of Lord Clarenceux. The figure did not move as I went in; its back was towards me. At the other end of the room was the doorway, which led to the sm... Read more of The Ghost Of Lord Clarenceux at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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



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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