You are no doubt well acquainted with this beautiful bird, and have perhaps fed some of its species, by the ornamental waters of the parks. Or perhaps, and that is far better, you have seen it sailing majestically down the river Thames, fr... Read more of The Swan at Breeds.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...



A BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY.








I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire,
I ne'er knew the Benedict's yoke;
I worship a fairy-like, fanciful form,
That goes up the chimney in smoke.

I sit in my dressing-gowned slipperful ease,
Without wife or bairns to provoke,
And puff at my pipe, while my hopes and my fears
All go up the chimney in smoke.

I sit with my pipe, and my heart's lonesome care
I try, but all vainly, to choke.
Ah, me! but I find that the flame that Love lights
Won't go up the chimney in smoke.

_Cigar and Tobacco World_, London.





Next: THE DREAMER'S PIPE.

Previous: ODE TO TOBACCO.



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