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Smoking Poems

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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



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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