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Smoking Poems

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...



THE DUET.








I was smoking a cigarette;
Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey,
Were singing together a blithe duet,
And days it were better I should forget
Came suddenly back to me,--
Days when life seemed a gay masque ball,
And to love and be loved was the sum of it all.

As they sang together, the whole scene fled,
The room's rich hangings, the sweet home air,
Stately Maud, with her proud blond head,
And I seemed to see in her place instead
A wealth of blue-black hair,
And a face, ah! your face--yours, Lisette;
A face it were wiser I should forget.

We were back--well, no matter when or where;
But you remember, I know, Lisette.
I saw you, dainty and debonair,
With the very same look that you used to wear
In the days I should forget.
And your lips, as red as the vintage we quaffed,
Were pearl-edged bumpers of wine when you laughed.

Two small slippers with big rosettes
Peeped out under your kilt-skirt there,
While we sat smoking our cigarettes
(Oh, I shall be dust when my heart forgets!)
And singing that self-same air:
And between the verses, for interlude,
I kissed your throat and your shoulders nude.

You were so full of a subtle fire,
You were so warm and so sweet, Lisette;
You were everything men admire;
And there were no fetters to make us tire,
For you were--a pretty grisette.
But you loved as only such natures can,
With a love that makes heaven or hell for a man.

They have ceased singing that old duet,
Stately Maud and the tenor, McKey.
"You are burning your coat with your cigarette,
And _qu'avez vous_, dearest, your lids are wet,"
Maud says, as she leans o'er me.
And I smile, and lie to her, husband-wise,
"Oh, it is nothing but smoke in my eyes."

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.




Next: MY CIGARETTE.

Previous: IN ROTTEN ROW.



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