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Smoking Poems

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...



THE TRUE LEUCOTHOE.








Let others praise the god of wine,
Or Venus, love, and beauty's smile;
I choose a theme not less divine,--
The plant that grows in Cuba's Isle.

The old Greeks err'd who bound with bays
Apollo's brow; the verdant crown
He wore, when measuring their days,
Grew in the West, where he went down.

An idle tale they also told;
They said he gave them frankincense,
Borne by some tree he loved of old;
If so, he gave a mere pretence.

For the true offspring of his love--
Tobacco--grew far o'er the sea,
Where Leucothoe from above
Led him as honey leads the bee,

Till on that plant he paus'd to gaze
Some moments ere he held his way,
And cheer her with his warmest rays,
Heedless of time or length of day.

Then with a sigh his brows he wreath'd
With leaves that care and toil beguile,
And bless'd, as their perfume he breath'd,
The plant that grows in Cuba's Isle.

ANON.





Next: THOSE ASHES.

Previous: A LOSS.



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