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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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



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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