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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...



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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