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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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



A WINTER EVENING HYMN TO MY FIRE.








Nicotia, dearer to the Muse
Than all the grape's bewildering juice,
We worship, unforbid of thee;
And as her incense floats and curls
In airy spires and wayward whirls,
Or poises on its tremulous stalk
A flower of frailest reverie,
So winds and loiters, idly free,
The current of unguided talk,
Now laughter-rippled, and now caught
In smooth dark pools of deeper thought
Meanwhile thou mellowest every word,
A sweetly unobtrusive third;
For thou hast magic beyond wine
To unlock natures each to each;
The unspoken thought thou canst divine;
Thou fill'st the pauses of the speech
With whispers that to dreamland reach,
And frozen fancy-springs unchain
In Arctic outskirts of the brain.
Sun of all inmost confidences,
To thy rays doth the heart unclose
Its formal calyx of pretences,
That close against rude day's offences,
And open its shy midnight rose!

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.





Next: MY PIPE AND I.

Previous: A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.



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 2602