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Smoking Poems

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...



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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