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Smoking Poems

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

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

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...



EDIFYING REFLECTIONS OF A TOBACCO-SMOKER.








_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANSLATED BY
EDWARD BRECK._



As oft I fill my faithful pipe,
To while away the moments glad,
With fragrant leaves, so rich and ripe,
My mind perceives an image sad,
So that I can but clearly see
How very like it is to me.

My pipe is made of earth and clay,
From which my mortal part is wrought;
I, too, must turn to earth some day.
It often falls, as quick as thought,
And breaks in two,--puts out its flame;
My fate, alas! is but the same!

My pipe I color not, nor paint;
White it remains, and hence 'tis true
That, when in Death's cold arms I faint,
My lips shall wear the ashen hue;
And as it blackens day by day,
So black the grave shall turn my clay!

And when the pipe is put alight
The smoke ascends, then trembles, wanes,
And soon dissolves in sunshine bright,
And but the whitened ash remains.
'Tis so man's glory crumble must,
E'en as his body, into dust!

How oft the filler is mislaid;
And, rather than to seek in vain,
I use my finger in its stead,
And fancy as I feel the pain,
If coals can burn to such degree,
How hot, O Lord, must Hades be!

So in tobacco oft I find,
Lessons of such instructive type;
And hence with calm, contented mind
I live, and smoke my faithful pipe
In reverence where'er I roam,--
On land, on water, and at home.





Next: THE LOST LOTUS.

Previous: INGIN SUMMER.



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