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Smoking Poems

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

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

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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 ...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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



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.



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