"Sr. According to your desire and my promise I have written down what I remember (divers things being slipt out of my memory) of the relation made me by Mr. Nicholas Towse concerning the Aparition wch visited him. About ye yeare 1627, {122} I... Read more of Wyndham's Letter at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

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

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...



ASHES.








Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown,
Alone I puff my brier brown,
And watch the ashes settle down
In lambent flashes;
While thro' the blue, thick, curling haze,
I strive with feeble eyes to gaze,
Upon the half-forgotten days
That left but ashes.

Again we wander through the lane,
Beneath the elms and out again,
Across the rippling fields of grain,
Where softly flashes
A slender brook 'mid banks of fern,
At every sigh my pulses burn,
At every thought I slowly turn
And find but ashes.

What made my fingers tremble so,
As you wrapped skeins of worsted snow,
Around them, now with movements slow
And now with dashes?
Maybe 'tis smoke that blinds my eyes,
Maybe a tear within them lies;
But as I puff my pipe there flies
A cloud of ashes.

Perhaps you did not understand,
How lightly flames of love were fanned.
Ah, every thought and wish I've planned
With something clashes!
And yet within my lonely den
Over a pipe, away from men,
I love to throw aside my pen
And stir the ashes.

DE WITT STERRY.





Next: CHOOSING A WIFE BY A PIPE OF TOBACCO.

Previous: IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4741