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Smoking Poems

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...



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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