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Smoking Poems

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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



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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