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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...



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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