Weight Loss Spell Stand in front of a mirror and put your hands on your stomach. Chant these words with feeling: Godess hear my plead, Make me the weight I want to heed, This size is to big for me, A size (size you want to be) I want to be, ... Read more of Weight Loss Spell at White Magic.caInformational Site Network Informational.ca
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Smoking Poems

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...



A SYMPHONY IN SMOKE.








A pretty, piquant, pouting pet,
Who likes to muse and take her ease,
She loves to smoke a cigarette;

To dream in silken hammockette,
And sing and swing beneath the trees,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.

Her Christian name is Violet;
Her eyes are blue as summer skies;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

As calm as babe in bassinette,
She swingeth in the summer breeze,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.

She ponders o'er a novelette;
Her parasol is Japanese;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

She loves a fume without a fret;
Her frills are white, her frock _cerise_,--
A pretty, pouting, piquant pet.

She almost goes to sleep, and yet,
Half-lulled by booming honey-bees,
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

A winsome, clever, cool coquette,
Who flouts all Grundian decrees,--
pretty, pouting, piquant pet,
That loves to smoke a cigarette.

_Harper's Bazaar_.





Next: IT MAY BE WEEDS.
Previous: A BRIEF PUFF OF SMOKE.


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