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Smoking Poems

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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



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.





Next: EPITAPH

Previous: ODE TO MY PIPE.



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