There are forty-eight states in this Union, and each of them has its own laws and courts. In addition we have the Federal Government with its own laws and courts. In one class of cases, the Federal courts follow the state laws which govern the... Read more of The Law Of Letters—contract Letters at Business Letter.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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



CANNON SONG.








And it has turned since you and I
Set out to face the world alone;
And, in a garret near the sky,
Had scarce a crust to call our own,
But many a banquet, Barmecide;
And many a dream of hope divine,
Lie buried in the moaning tide,
That drowns the past, old pipe of mine!

But prosing isn't quite the thing,
And so, I guess, I'll give it up:
Just wait a moment while I sing;
We'll have another parting cup,
And then to bed. The stars are low;
Yon sickly moon has ceased to shine;
So here she goes, and off we go
To Slumberland, old pipe of mine!

JOHN J. GORMLEY.





Next: CANNON SONG.

Previous: OLD PIPE OF MINE.



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 2293