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Smoking Poems

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...



"KEATS TOOK SNUFF."








"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the
praise-worthy editorial research of Mr. Burton Forman."


So "Keats took snuff?" A few more years,
When we are dead and famous--eh?
Will they record our pipes and beers,
And if we smoked cigars or clay?
Or will the world cry "Quantum suff"
To tattle such as "Keats took snuff"?

Perhaps some chronicler would wish
To know what whiskey we preferred,
And if we ever dined on fish,
Or only took the joint and bird.
Such facts are quite as worthy stuff,
Good chronicler, as "Keats took snuff."

You answer: "But, if you were Keats--"
Tut! never mind your buts and ifs,
Of little men record their meats,
Their drinks, their troubles, and their tiffs,
Of the great dead there's gold enough
To spare us such as "Keats took snuff."

Well, go your ways, you little folk,
Who polish up the great folk's lives;
Record the follies that they spoke,
And paint their squabbles with their wives.
Somewhere, if ever ghosts be gruff,
I trust some Keats will "give you snuff."

_The Globe_, London.





Next: THE BALLAD OF THE PIPE.

Previous: THE DISCOVERY OF TOBACCO.



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