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Smoking Poems

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

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

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...

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

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...



THE SCENT OF A GOOD CIGAR.








What is it comes through the deepening dusk,--
Something sweeter than jasmine scent,
Sweeter than rose and violet blent,
More potent in power than orange or musk?
The scent of a good cigar.

I am all alone in my quiet room,
And the windows are open wide and free
To let in the south wind's kiss for me,
While I rock in the softly gathering gloom,
And that subtle fragrance steals.

Just as a loving, tender hand
Will sometimes steal in yours,
It softly comes through the open doors,
And memory wakes at its command,--
The scent of that good cigar.

And what does it say? Ah! that's for me
And my heart alone to know;
But that heart thrills with a sudden glow,
Tears fill my eyes till I cannot see,--
From the scent of that good cigar.

KATE A. CARRINGTON.





Next: TO MY CIGAR.

Previous: THE LOST LOTUS.



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