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

by Unknown

In whispering, "Lo! dear Anna blooms again!"

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THE SMOKER'S REVERIE.

(October.)

I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beechen tree,

With its leaves by the autumn made ripe;

While they cling to the stems like old age unto life,

I dream of the days when I'll rest from this strife,

And in peace smoke my brierwood pipe.

O my brierwood pipe!—of bright fancy the twin,