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Various

"Pipe and Pouch The Smoker's Own Book of Poetry"


But it is sweet to kiss; and I
Should love to kiss a wife and pet her--
She scolds? Straight to my pipe I fly;
Her scowls through fragrant smoke look better.
There's merry Maud--with her I'd dare
To brave the matrimonial ocean;
_She_ would not pout or fret, but wear
A constant smile of sweet devotion.
How know I that she will not change,
My wishes at defiance set? Oh!
(Pray this in smallest type arrange)
She smokes--at times--a cigareto.
F.W. LITTLETON HAY.


CONFESSION OF A CIGAR SMOKER.

I owe to smoking, more or less,
Through life the whole of my success;
With my cigar I'm sage and wise,--
Without, I'm dull as cloudy skies.
When smoking, all my ideas soar,
When not, they sink upon the floor.
The greatest men have all been smokers,
And so were all the greatest jokers.
Then ye who'd bid adieu to care,
Come here and smoke it into air.
ANON.


Sir Walter Raleigh! name of worth,
How sweet for thee to know
King James, who never smoked on earth,
Is smoking down below.


THE SMOKER'S CALENDAR.

When January's cold appears,
A glowing pipe my spirit cheers;
And still it glads the length'ning day
'Neath February's milder sway.


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