1340. If the right cheek burns, some one is speaking well of you; if the left, they are speaking ill of you; if both, they speak well and ill at once. Moisten the finger in the mouth and touch it to the cheek, naming those whom you suspect; ... Read more of Bodily Affections at Superstitions.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

A Poet's Pipe.

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

Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...



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_.


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