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 Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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



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 Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4390