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Smoking Poems

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

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

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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



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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