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Smoking Poems

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

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

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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



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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