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Smoking Poems

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...



THE PIPE YOU MAKE YOURSELF.








There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes as well,
There's plain pipes an' fancy pipes--things jes made to sell;
But any pipe that kin be bought fer marbles, chalk, or pelf,
Ain't ekal to the flaver of th' pipe you make yourself.

Jest take a common corn cob an' whittle out the middle,
Then plug up one end of it as tight as any fiddle;
Fit a stem into th' side an' lay her on th' shelf,
An' when she's dry you take her down, that pipe you made yourself.

Cram her full clar to th' brim with nachral leaf, you bet--
'T will smoke a trifle better for bein' somewhat wet--
Take your worms and fishin' pole, and a jug along for health,
An' you'll get a taste o' heaven from that pipe you made yourself.

There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes as well,
There's plain pipes an' fancy pipes--things jes made to sell;
But any pipe that kin be bought for marbles, chalk, or pelf,
Ain't ekal to th' flayer of the pipe you make yourself.

HENRY E. BROWN.





Next: CHIBOUQUE.

Previous: IF I WERE KING.



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