The first requisite of style is choice of words, and this comes under the head of Diction, the property of style which has reference to the words and phrases used in speaking and writing. The secret of literary skill from any standpoint consist... Read more of DICTION at Speaking Writing.comInformational Site Network Informational.ca
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Smoking Poems

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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



CIGARS AND BEER.








Here
With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit.
Alas!
They pass
Unheeded by;
And, as they fly,
I,
Being dry,
Sit idly sipping here
My beer.

Oh, finer far
Than fame or riches are
The graceful smoke-wreaths of this cigar!
Why
Should I
Weep, wail, or sigh?
What if luck has passed me by?
What if my hopes are dead,
My pleasures fled?
Have I not still
My fill
Of right good cheer,--
Cigars and beer?

Go, whining youth,
Forsooth!
Go, weep and wail,
Sigh and grow pale,
Weave melancholy rhymes
On the old times,
Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear,--
But leave me to my beer!
Gold is dross,
Love is loss;
So, if I gulp my sorrows down,
Or see them drown
In foamy draughts of old nut-brown,
Then do I wear the crown
Without a cross!

GEORGE ARNOLD.





Next: EFFUSION BY A CIGAR SMOKER.
Previous: TO MY CIGAR.


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