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Smoking Poems

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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 ...

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



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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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