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Smoking Poems

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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



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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