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Smoking Poems

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...



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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