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Smoking Poems

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

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

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...



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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