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Smoking Poems

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

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

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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



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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