To be a Negro in a day like this Demands forgiveness. Bruised with blow on blow, Betrayed, like him whose woe dimmed eyes gave bliss Still must one succor those who brought one low, To be a Negro in a day like this. To be a Negro in a d... Read more of At The Closed Gate Of Justice at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

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



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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