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Smoking Poems

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...



THE LOST LOTUS.








'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East,
There dwelt a race whose softly flowing hours
Passed like the vision of a royal feast,
By Nero given in the Baian bowers;
Thanks to the lotus-blossom spell,
Their lives were one long miracle.

In after years the passing sons of men
Looked for those lotus blossoms all in vain,
Through every hillside, glade, and glen
And e'en the isles of many a main;
Yet through the centuries some doom,
Forbade them see the lotus bloom.

The Old World wearied of the long pursuit,
And called the sacred leaf a poet's theme,
When lo! the New World, rich in flower and fruit,
Revealed the lotus, lovelier than the dream
That races of the long past days did haunt,--
The green-leaved, amber-tipped tobacco plant.

ANON.





Next: THE SCENT OF A GOOD CIGAR.

Previous: EDIFYING REFLECTIONS OF A TOBACCO-SMOKER.



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