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Smoking Poems

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

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

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

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

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...



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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