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Smoking Poems

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...



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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