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Smoking Poems

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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 ...

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

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...



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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