ST. STEPHEN suffered the next in order. His death was occasioned by the faithful manner in which he preached the gospel to the betrayers and murderers of Christ. To such a degree of madness were they excited, that they cast him out of the city ... Read more of St Stephen at Martyrs.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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



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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