By CHARLES W. ANDERSON, of New York [Note 24: An address delivered before the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, Nashville, Tenn., June 5, 1897.] Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen: I sometimes feel that we, as a race, do not fully appre... Read more of The Limitless Possibilities Of The Negro Race at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

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

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

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

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



WHAT I LIKE.








To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream,
Upon the grassy bank of some calm stream--
And smoke.

To climb with daring feet some rugged rock,
And sit aloft where gulls and curlews flock--
And smoke.

To wander lonely on the ocean's brink,
And of the good old times to muse and think--
And smoke.

To hide me in some deep and woody glen,
Far from unhealthy haunts of sordid men--
And smoke.

To linger in some fairy haunted vale,
While all about me falls the moonlight pale--
And smoke.

H.L.





Next: MY MEERSCHAUMS.

Previous: THOSE ASHES.



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