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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...



TO A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest,
Belov'd and honored by the wise,
Come filled with honest "Weekly's best,"
And kindled from the lofty skies.

While round me clouds of incense roll,
With guiltless joys you charm the sense,
And nobler pleasure to the soul
In hints of moral truth dispense.

Soon as you feel th' enliv'ning ray,
To dust you hasten to return,
And teach me that my earliest day
Began to give me to the urn.

But though thy grosser substance sink
To dust, thy purer part aspires;
This when I see, I joy to think
That earth but half of me requires.

Like thee, myself am born to die,
Made half to rise, and half to fall.
Oh, could I, while my moments fly,
The bliss you give me give to all!

_Gentleman's Magazine_, July, 1745.




In the smoke of my dear cigarito
Cloud castles rise gorgeous and tall;
And Eros, divine muchachito,
With smiles hovers over it all.

But dreaming, forgetting to cherish
The fire at my lips as it dies,
The dream and the rapture must perish,
And Eros descend from the skies.

O wicked and false muchachito,
Your rapture I yet may recall;
But, like my re-lit cigarito,
A bitterness tinges it all.

CAMILLA K. VON K.





Next: A GOOD CIGAR.

Previous: TOO GREAT A SACRIFICE.



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