id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
22825	Herford, Oliver	The Smoker's Year Book			.txt	text/plain	939	131	92	THE SMOKER'S YEAR BOOK MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY NEW YORK 1908 _Published, October, 1908_ I fill my pipe with honeyed sweet, Bring burnt off'ring to his feet, Lady April, it is clear, Thus she melts old Winter's heart. To the tender piping sound Wafting scented wreaths of love "What so rare as a day in June?" To the month of roses sweet, Perfect days I own are rare-Can a day be perfect to Without a smoke, a perfect day? The stars of Heaven look down, and say: "So this is Independence Day! Dreaming 'neath the August sun, Were a monster Pipe alight, Red with summer's ashes strewn, Yet, old man, for all you show it, A pipe! A pipe! Same old Hard Luck tales to tell, Children dance to old-time airs-Of a vanished Christmas Day, In a smoke wreath's purple skein, "Does Christmas still come once a year?"	./cache/22825.txt	./txt/22825.txt