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Smoking Poems

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

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



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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