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Smoking Poems

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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


Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig,
Ne'er deemed the smoke-cloud _infra dig._,
In which you could not see his wig,
Involved in clouds of smoke.

Quaint Lamb his wit would oft enshroud
In smoke-igniting laughter loud,
Like summer thunder in the cloud,--
The lightning in the smoke.

Dean Swift "died at the top;" his head
Had drifting clouds when wit had fled:
Dull care lurked in his brain, instead
Of blowing out in smoke.

And Cowper mild--no smoker he,
Bard of the sofa and bohea--
Complained his "dear friend Bull" not free
From lowering Stygian smoke.

Clouds in his non-inebriate nob
Were doomed the tea tables to rob,
Inflicting many a painful throb
On one who could not smoke!

Smoke on! it is the steam of life,
The smoother of the waves of strife;
Where chimneys smoke, or scolds the wife,
The counteraction--smoke.

We ride and work and weave by steam,
Till ages past seem like a dream
In a new world whose dawning beam
Is redolent of smoke.

We travel like a comet wild
On which some distant sun had smiled,
And from his orbit thus beguiled
With a long tail of smoke.

The clouds arise from smoking seas,
And give, with each conveying breeze,
Life to the "weed," and herbs, and trees,
Which turn again to smoke.

All nations smoke! Havana's pother
Smokes friendly with its Broseley brother:
The world's one end puffs to the other,
In amicable smoke.

When plague and pestilence go forth,
And to diseases dire give birth,
Which walk in darkness through the earth,
I clothe myself in smoke.

I smoke through desolating years,
Tabooed from fever, void of fears,
And when some dreaded pest appears,
I call in Doctor Smoke.

Go, reader! perfume ladies' hair
And scent the ringlets of the fair
With eau Cologne and odors rare
Aloof from healthy smoke.

Go babble at the ball and rout,
And smirk with high-born dames who doubt:
Thy flames are quenched, thy fires are out,
And sinking into smoke.

"Better," said Johnson, great in name,
"It were, when poets droop in fame,
To see smoke brighten into flame,
Than flames sink into smoke."

SELIM: _Eclectic Magazine_.



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