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Smoking Poems

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...



MY MEERSCHAUMS.








Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved,
High carved and plain, dark-hued and creamy,
Slim tubes for cigarettes reserved,
And stout ones for Havanas dreamy.

This cricket, on an amber spear
Impaled, recalls that golden weather
When love and I, too young to fear
Heartburn, smoked cigarettes together.

And even now--too old to take
The little papered shams for flavor--
I light it oft for her sweet sake
Who gave it, with her girlish favor.

And here's the mighty student bowl
Whose tutoring in and after college
Has led me nearer wisdom's goal
Than all I learned of text-book knowledge.

"It taught me?" Ay, to hold my tongue,
To keep a-light, and yet burn slowly,
To break ill spells around me flung
As with the enchanted whiff of Moly.

This nargileh, whose hue betrays
Perique from soft Louisiana,
In Egypt once beguiled the days
Of Tewfik's dreamy-eyed Sultana.

Speaking of color,--do you know
A maid with eyes as darkly splendid
As are the hues that, rich and slow,
On this Hungarian bowl have blended?

Can artist paint the fiery glints
Of this quaint finger here beside it,
With amber nail,--the lustrous tints,
A thousand Partagas have dyed it?

"And this old silver patched affair?"
Well, sir, that meerschaum has its reasons
For showing marks of time and wear;
For in its smoke through fifty seasons

My grandsire blew his cares away!
And then, when done with life's sojourning,
At seventy-five dropped dead one day,
That pipe between his set teeth burning!

"Killed him?" No doubt! it's apt to kill
In fifty year's incessant using--
Some twenty pipes a day. And still,
On that ripe, well-filled, lifetime musing,

I envy oft so bright a part,--
To live as long as life's a treasure;
To die of--not an aching heart,
But--half a century of pleasure!

Well, well! I'm boring you, no doubt;
How these old memories will undo one--
I see you've let your weed go out;
That's wrong! Here, light yourself a new one!

CHARLES F. LUMMIS.




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