Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor wood-cutter, with his wife and two children by his former marriage, a little boy called Hansel and a girl named Gretel. He had little enough to eat; and once, when there was a great fam... Read more of Hansel And Gretel at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...



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 4235