Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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



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 del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4291