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Smoking Poems

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...


Do you remember when first we met?
I was turning twenty--well! I don't forget
How I walked along,
Humming a song
Across the fields and down the lane
By the country road, and back again
To the dear old farm--three miles or more--
And brought you home from the village store.

Summer was passing--don't you recall
The splendid harvest we had that Fall,
And how when the Autumn died,--sober and brown,--
We trudged down the turnpike, and on to the town?

Sweet black brierwood pipe of mine!
If you were human you'd be half divine,
For when I've looked beyond the smoke, into your burning bowl
In times of need
You've been, indeed,
The only comfort, sweetest solace, of my overflowing soul.
We've been together nearly thirty years, old fellow!
And now, you must admit, we're both a trifle mellow.
We have had our share of joys and a deal of sorrows,
And while we're only waiting for a few more to-morrows,
Others will come, and others will go,
And Time will gather what Youth will sow;
But we together will go down the rough
Road to the end, and to the end--puff.




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