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Smoking Poems

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...



VIRGINIA TOBACCO.








Two maiden dames of sixty-two
Together long had dwelt;
Neither, alas! of love so true
The bitter pang had felt.

But age comes on, they say, apace,
To warn us of our death,
And wrinkles mar the fairest face,--
At last it stops our breath.

One of these dames tormented sore
With that curst pang, toothache,
Was at a loss for such a bore
What remedy to take.

"I've heard," thought she, "this ill to cure,
A pipe is good, they say.
Well then, tobacco I'll endure,
And smoke the pain away."

The pipe was lit, the tooth soon well,
And she retired to rest,
When then the other ancient belle
Her spinster maid addressed,--

"Let me request a favor, pray"--
"I'll do it if I can"--
"Oh! well, then, love, smoke every day,
_You smell so like a man!_"

Attributed to JOHN STANLEY GREGSON.





Next: AN ODE OF THANKS FOR CERTAIN CIGARS.

Previous: INVOCATION TO TOBACCO.



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