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Smoking Poems

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

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

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

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...



"A FREE PUFF."








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.

ARTHUR IRVING GRAY.





Next: MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.

Previous: WRONGFELLOW.



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