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Smoking Poems

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

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

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

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



TO MY MEERSCHAUM.








There's a charm in the sun-crested hills,
In the quivering light of a star,
In the flash of a silvery rill,
Yet to me thou art lovelier far,
My Meerschaum!

There's a love in her witching dark eye,
There's a love in her tresses at play,
Yet her love would be worth not a sigh,
If from thee she could lure me away,
My Meerschaum!

Let revellers sing of their wine,
As they toss it in ecstasy down,
But the bowl I call for is thine,
With its deepening amber and brown,
My Meerschaum!

For when trouble would bid me despair,
I call for a flagon of beer,
And puff a defiance to care,
Till sorrows in smoke disappear,
My Meerschaum!

Though mid pleasures unnumbered I whirl,
Though I traverse the billowy sea,
Yet the waving and beautiful curl
Of thy smoke's ever dearer to me,
My Meerschaum!

P.D.R.





Next: OLD PIPE OF MINE.

Previous: MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.



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