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Smoking Poems

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...



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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