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Smoking Poems

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

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

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

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...



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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