Some people grow old gracefully, while others fight and scratch the whole way. Andy's wife, refusing to give in to the looks of growing old, goes out and buys a new line of expensive cosmetics guaranteed to make her look years younger. After ... Read more of How old am I? at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...



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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