A verb is a word which implies action or the doing of something, or it may be defined as a word which affirms, commands or asks a question. Thus, the words John the table, contain no assertion, but when the word strikes is introduced, somethi... Read more of THE VERB at Speaking Writing.comInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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...

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

Seasonable Sweets.

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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


As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low, to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco, and to vanish with the smoke.

'Tis a fragrant retrospection, for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfumes from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine--
When my truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart of mine.

Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream.

In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm;
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine
That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.

A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes,
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.

I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her, and she answered the caress
With the written declaration that, "as surely as the vine
Grew round the stump," she loved me,--that old sweetheart of mine!

And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned:
When I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
But write the tender verses that she set the music to;

When we should live together in a cozy little cot,
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden-spot,
Where the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart of mine;

And I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was gray;
And we should be so happy that when either's lips were dumb
They would not smile in heaven till the other's kiss had come.

But ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and my wife is standing there!
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign
To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.




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