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Smoking Poems

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...



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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