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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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...

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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



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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