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Smoking Poems

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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



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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