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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...



"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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