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Smoking Poems

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...



THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.








Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh,
Briton of the truest type,
When that too devoted valet
Quenched your first-recorded pipe,
Were you pondering the opinion,
As you watched the airy coil,
That the virtue of Virginia
Might be bred in British soil?

You transplanted the potato,
'Twas a more enduring gift
Than the wisdom of a Plato
To our poverty and thrift.
That respected root has flourished
Nobly for a nation's need,
But our brightest dreams are nourished
Ever on a foreign weed.

From the deepest meditation
Of the philosophic scribe,
From the poet's inspiration,
For the cynic's polished gibe,
We invoke narcotic nurses
In their jargon from afar,
I indite these modest verses
On a polyglot cigar.

Leaf that lulls a Turkish Aga
May a scholar's soul renew,
Fancy spring from Larranaga,
History from honey-dew.
When the teacher and the tyro
Spirit-manna fondly seek,
'Tis the cigarette from Cairo,
Or a compound from the Greek.

But no British-born aroma
Is fit incense to the Queen,
Nature gives her best diploma
To the alien nicotine.
We are doomed to her ill-favor,
For the plant that's native grown
Has a patriotic flavor
Too exclusively our own.

O my country, could your smoker
Boast your "shag," or even "twist,"
Every man were mediocre
Save the blest tobacconist!
He will point immortal morals,
Make all common praises mute,
Who shall win our grateful laurels
With a national cheroot.

_The St. James Gazette_.





Next: TO AN OLD PIPE.

Previous: TO THE TOBACCO PIPE.



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