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Smoking Poems

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

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

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

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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



THE SMOKER'S CALENDAR.








When January's cold appears,
A glowing pipe my spirit cheers;
And still it glads the length'ning day
'Neath February's milder sway.
When March's keener winds succeed,
What charms me like the burning weed
When April mounts the solar car,
I join him, puffing a cigar;
And May, so beautiful and bright,
Still finds the pleasing weed a-light.
To balmy zephyrs it gives zest
When June in gayest livery's drest.
Through July, Flora's offspring smile,
But still Nicotia's can beguile;
And August, when its fruits are ripe,
Matures my pleasure in a pipe.
September finds me in the garden,
Communing with a long churchwarden.
Even in the wane of dull October
I smoke my pipe and sip my "robar."
November's soaking show'rs require
The smoking pipe and blazing fire.
The darkest day in drear December's--
That's lighted by their glowing embers.

ANON.





Next: AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.

Previous: CONFESSION OF A CIGAR SMOKER.



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