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Smoking Poems

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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



A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale,
Or with alcohol moisten his thrapple,
Only give me, I pray, a good pipe of soft clay,
Nicely tapered and thin in the stapple;
And I shall puff, puff, let who will say, "Enough!"
No luxury else I'm in lack o',
No malice I hoard 'gainst queen, prince, duke, or lord,
While I pull at my pipe of tobacco.

When I feel the hot strife of the battle of life,
And the prospect is aught but enticin',
Mayhap some real ill, like a protested bill,
Dims the sunshine that tinged the horizon:
Only let me puff, puff,--be they ever so rough,
All the sorrows of life I lose track o',
The mists disappear, and the vista is clear,
With a soothing mild pipe of tobacco.

And when joy after pain, like the sun after rain,
Stills the waters, long turbid and troubled,
That life's current may flow with a ruddier glow,
And the sense of enjoyment be doubled,--
Oh! let me puff, puff, till I feel _quantum suff._,
Such luxury still I'm in lack o';
Be joy ever so sweet, it would be incomplete,
Without a good pipe of tobacco.

Should my recreant muse--sometimes apt to refuse
The guidance of bit and of bridle--
Still blankly demur, spite of whip and spur,
Unimpassioned, inconstant, or idle;
Only let me puff, puff, till the brain cries, "Enough!"
Such excitement is all I'm in lack o',
And the poetic vein soon to fancy gives rein,
Inspired by a pipe of tobacco.

And when, with one accord, round the jovial board,
In friendship our bosoms are glowing,
While with toast and with song we the evening prolong,
And with nectar the goblets are flowing;
Still let us puff, puff,--be life smooth, be it rough,
Such enjoyment we're ever in lack o';
The more peace and good-will will abound as we fill
A jolly good pipe of tobacco.

JOHN USHER.





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Previous: ODE TO MY PIPE.



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