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Smoking Poems

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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


A pipe, a book,
A cosy nook,
A fire,--at least its embers;
A dog, a glass:--
'Tis thus we pass
Such hours as one remembers.

Who'd wish to wed?
Poor Cupid's dead
These thousand years, I wager.
The modern maid
Is but a jade,
Not worth the time to cage her.

In silken gown
To "take" the town
Her first and last ambition.
What good is she
To you or me
Who have but a "position"?

So let us drink
To her,--but think
Of him who has to keep her;
And _sans_ a wife
Let's spend our life
In bachelordom,--it's cheaper.




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