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Smoking Poems

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

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

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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



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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