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Smoking Poems

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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



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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