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Smoking Poems

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...



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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