The object of the following chapters is to give clear and unmistakable instruction on the lines and markings of the hands, both from the student's standpoint and from that of the general reader. This is not usually the course adopted in books p... Read more of The Line Of Head Or The Indications Of The Mentality at Palm Readings.orgInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



THOSE ASHES.








Up to the frescoed ceiling
The smoke of my cigarette
In a sinuous spray is reeling,
Forming flower and minaret.

What delicious landscape floating
On perfumed wings I see;
Pale swans I am idly noting,
And queens robed in filagree.

I see such delicious faces
As ne'er man saw before,
And my fancy fondly chases
Sweet maids on a fairy shore.

Now to bits my air-castle crashes,
And those pictures I see no more;
My grandmother yells: "Them ashes--
Don't drop them on the floor!"

R.K. MUNKITTRICK.





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Previous: THE TRUE LEUCOTHOE.



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