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Smoking Poems

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

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

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

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



A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Let the learned talk of books,
The glutton of cooks,
The lover of Celia's soft smack--O!
No mortal can boast
So noble a toast
As a pipe of accepted tobacco.

Let the soldier for fame,
And a general's name,
In battle get many a thwack--O!
Let who will have most,
Who will rule the rooste,
Give me but a pipe of tobacco.

Tobacco gives wit
To the dullest old cit,
And makes him of politics crack--O!
The lawyers i' the hall
Were not able to bawl,
Were it not for a whiff of tobacco.

The man whose chief glory
Is telling a story,
Had never arrived at the smack--O!
Between ever heying,
And as I was saying,
Did he not take a whiff of tobacco.

The doctor who places
Much skill in grimaces,
And feels your pulse running tic-tack--O!
Would you know his chief skill?
It is only to fill
And smoke a good pipe of tobacco.

The courtiers alone
To this weed are not prone;
Would you know what 'tis makes them so slack--O?
'Twas because it inclined
To be honest the mind,
And therefore they banished tobacco.





Next: HENRY FIELDING.

Previous: AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.



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