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Smoking Poems

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

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



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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