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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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 The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

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

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...



TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON.








Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand
What the ladies and gentlemen see in your face,
That you are in fashion all over the land,
And I am so much fallen into disgrace.

"Do but see what a pretty contemplative air
I give to the company,--pray do but note 'em,--
You would think that the wise men of Greece were all there,
Or, at least, would suppose them the wise men of Gotham.

"My breath is as sweet as the breath of blown roses,
While you are a nuisance where'er you appear;
There is nothing but snivelling and blowing of noses,
Such a noise as turns any man's stomach to hear."

Then, lifting his lid in a delicate way,
And opening his mouth with a smile quite engaging.
The Box in reply was heard plainly to say,
"What a silly dispute is this we are Waging!

"If you have a little of merit to claim,
You may thank the sweet-smelling Virginian weed;
And I, if I seem to deserve any blame,
The before-mentioned drug in apology plead.

"Thus neither the praise nor the blame is our own,
No room for a sneer, much less a cachinnus;
We are vehicles, not of tobacco alone,
But of anything else they may choose to put in us."

WM. COWPER.





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