Miss C., a lady of excellent sense, religious but not bigoted, lived before her marriage in the house of her uncle D., a celebrated physician, and member of the Institute. Her mother at this time was seriously ill in the country. One night th... Read more of The Deathbed at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...



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.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 3863