VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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



A POET'S PIPE.








_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._


A poet's pipe am I,
And my Abyssinian tint
Is an unmistakable hint
That he lays me not often by.
When his soul is with grief o'erworn
I smoke like the cottage where
They are cooking the evening fare
For the laborer's return.

I enfold and cradle his soul
In the vapors moving and blue
That mount from my fiery mouth;
And there is power in my bowl
To charm his spirit and soothe,
And heal his weariness too.

RICHARD HERNE SHEPHERD.





Next: MY CIGAR.

Previous: WITH PIPE AND BOOK.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2937