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Smoking Poems

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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



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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