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Smoking Poems

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

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...



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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