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Smoking Poems

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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



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.





Next: TITLEPAGE DEDICATION.

Previous: THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.



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