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Smoking Poems

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...



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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