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Smoking Poems

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...



THE PIPE CRITIC.








Say, pipe, let's talk of love;
Canst aid me? By my life,
I'll ask not gods above
To help me choose a wife;
But to thy gentle self I'll give the puzzling strife.

Thy color let me find,
And blue like smoke her eyes;
A healthy store her mind
As that which in thee lies,--
An evanescent draft, whose incense mounts the skies.

And, pipe, a breath like thine;
Her hair an amber gold,
And wrought in shapes as fine
As that which now I hold;
A grace in every limb, her form thy slender mould.

And when her lips I kiss,
Oh, may she burn like thee,
And strive to give me bliss!
A comforter to be
When friends wax cold, time fades, and all departs from me.

And may she hide in smoke,
As you, my friend, have done,
The failings that would choke
My virtues every one,
Turn grief to laughing jest, or painful thought to fun.

Her aid be such as thine
To stir my brain a bit.
When 'round this hearth of mine
Friends sit and banter wit,
She'll shape a well-turned phrase, a subtle jest to hit.

In short, my sole delight
(Why, pipe, you sputter so!),
Whose angel visage bright
(And at me ashes throw!)
Shall never rival fear. You're jealous now, I know.

Nay, pipe, I'll not leave thee;
For of thy gifts there's one
That's passing dear to me
Whose equal she'd have none,--
The gift of peace serene; she'd have, alas, a tongue!

WALTER LITTLEFIELD.





Next: A SONG WITHOUT A NAME.

Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



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