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Smoking Poems

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...



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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