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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

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

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

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

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



"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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