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Smoking Poems

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...



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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