Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

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

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

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...



A WARNING.








HE.

I loathe all books. I hate to see
The world and men through others' eyes;
My own are good enough for me.
These scribbling fellows I despise;
They bore me.
I used to try to read a bit,
But, when I did, a sleepy fit
Came o'er me.

Yet here I sit with pensive look,
Filling my pipe with fragrant loads,
Gazing in rapture at a book!--
A free translation of the Odes
Of Horace.
'Tis owned by sweet Elizabeth,
And breathes a subtle, fragrant breath
Of orris.

I longed for something that was hers
To cheer me when I'm feeling low;
I saw this book of paltry verse,
And asked to take it home--and so
She lent it.
I love her deep and tenderly,
Yet dare not tell my love, lest she
Resent it.

I'll learn to quote a stanza here,
A couplet there. I'm very sure
'Twould aid my suit could I appear
_Au fait_ in books and literature.
I'll do it!
This jingle I can quickly learn;
Then, hid in roses, I'll return
Her poet!





Next: SHE.

Previous: MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 6834