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Smoking Poems

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...



TO MY CIGAR.








Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctor's spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.

What though they tell, with phizzes long,
My years are sooner past!
I would reply with reason strong,
They're sweeter while they last.

When in the lonely evening hour,
Attended but by thee,
O'er history's varied page I pore,
Man's fate in thine I see.

Oft as the snowy column grows,
Then breaks and falls away,
I trace how mighty realms thus rose,
Thus tumbled to decay.

Awhile like thee earth's masters burn
And smoke and fume around;
And then, like thee, to ashes turn,
And mingle with the ground.

Life's but a leaf adroitly rolled,
And Time's the wasting breath
That, late or early, we behold
Gives all to dusty death.

From beggar's frieze to monarch's robe,
One common doom is passed;
Sweet Nature's works, the swelling globe,
Must all burn out at last.

And what is he who smokes thee now?
A little moving heap,
That soon, like thee, to fate must bow,
With thee in dust must sleep.

But though thy ashes downward go,
Thy essence rolls on high;
Thus, when my body lieth low,
My soul shall cleave the sky.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.





Next: KNICKERBOCKER.

Previous: THE SCENT OF A GOOD CIGAR.



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