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Smoking Poems

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

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

Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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


Betty bouncer kept a stall
At the corner of a street,
And she had a smile for all.
Many were the friends she'd greet
With kindly nod on passing by,
Who, smiling, saw her pipe awry.

Poor old lass! she loved her pipe,
A constant friend it seemed to be;
As she sold her apples ripe,
With an apple on each knee,
How she'd make the smoke-wreaths fly,
As I've watched her pipe awry!

Seasons came and seasons went,
Only changing Betty's store;
Youngsters with her always spent
Their little all and wished they'd more:
Timidly with upturned eye
Staring at her pipe awry.

Bet was always at her post
Early morn or even late;
Ginger beer or chestnut roast,
Served she as she sat in state,
On two bushel-baskets high;
You should have seen her pipe awry!

Little care old Betty had,
She quietly jogged on her way;
Never did her face look sad.
Although she fumed the livelong day.
Guiltless seemed she of a sigh.
I never saw her pipe her eye!




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