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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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



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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