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Smoking Poems

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

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



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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