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Smoking Poems

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...



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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