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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...



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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