Joseph Jacobs There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning, which they carried to the market and sold. But one m... Read more of JACK AND THE BEANSTALK at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...



AD NICOTINA.








"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._"


Let others sing the praise of wine;
I'll tolerate no queen
But one fair nymph of spotless line,
The gentle Nicotine.
Her breath's as sweet as any flower's,
No matter where it blows,
And makes this dull old world of ours
The color of the rose.

There's not a pang but she can soothe,
Nor spell but she can break,
And e'en the hardest lot can smooth,
And bid us courage take.
Fair Nicotine! thou dost atone
For many an aching heart;
And I for one will gladly own
The magic of thine art.

Ah, "friendly traitress," "loving foe,"
Forgive this loving lay;
For I, thy worshipper, would show
The sweetness of thy sway.
"Sublime tobacco!" may thy reign
Ne'er for one moment cease;
For thou, Great Plant, art kin to brain,
And synonym for peace.

E.H.S.





Next: MEERSCHAUM.

Previous: A SONG WITHOUT A NAME.



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