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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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

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

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

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

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



"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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