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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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...

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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



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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