It was partly through pioneer study of the Siouan Indians that the popular fallacy concerning the aboriginal Great Spirit gained currency; and it was partly through the work of Dorsey among the cegiha and Dakota tribes, first as a missionary ... Read more of The Siouan Mythology at Siouan.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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



ANOTHER MATCH.








_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._


If love were dhudeen olden,
And I were like the weed,
Oh! we would live together
And love the jolly weather,
And bask in sunshine golden,
Rare pals of choicest breed;
If love were dhudeen olden,
And I were like the weed.

If you were oil essential,
And I were nicotine,
We'd hatch up wicked treason,
And spoil each smoker's reason,
Till he grew penitential,
And turned a bilious green;
If you were oil essential,
And I were nicotine.

If you were snuff, my darling,
And I, your love, the box.
We'd live and sneeze together,
Shut out from all the weather,
And anti-snuffers snarling,
In neckties orthodox;
If you were snuff, my darling,
And I, your love, the box.

If you were the aroma,
And I were simply smoke,
We'd skyward fly together,
As light as any feather;
And flying high as Homer,
His gray old ghost we'd choke;
If you were the aroma,
And I were simply smoke.

From _Cope's Tobacco Plant_.





Next: IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.

Previous: ACROSTIC.



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