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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...



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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