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Smoking Poems

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...



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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