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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

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

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

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

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...



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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