To dream that you commit adultery, foretells that you will bearrainged{sic} for some illegal action. If a woman has this dream,she will fail to hold her husband's affections, letting hertemper and spite overwhelm her at the least provocation.If i... Read more of Adultery at My Dreams.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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

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

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

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

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



TO AN OLD PIPE.








Once your smoothly polished face
Nestled lightly in a case;
'Twas a jolly cosy place,
I surmise;

And a zealous subject blew
On your cheeks, until they grew
To the fascinating hue
Of her eyes.

Near a rusty-hilted sword,
Now upon my mantel-board,
Where my curios are stored,
You recline.

You were pleasant company when
By the scribbling of her pen
I was sent the ways of men
To repine.

Tell me truly (you were there
When she ceased that debonair
Correspondence and affair)
I suppose

That she laughed and smiled all day;
Or did gentle tear-drops stray
Down her charming _retroussee_
Little nose?

Where the sunbeams, coyly still,
Fall upon the mantel-sill,
You perpetually will
Silence woo;

And I fear that she herself,
By the little chubby elf.
Will be laid upon the shelf
Just as you.

DE WITT STERRY.





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Previous: THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.



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