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Smoking Poems

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

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

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

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...

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

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



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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