VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

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

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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



EPITAPH








_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OVER HER
GRAVE._


Let no cold marble o'er my body rise--
But only earth above, and sunny skies.
Thus would I lowly lie in peaceful rest,
Nursing the Herb Divine from out my breast.
Green let it grow above this clay of mine,
Deriving strength from strength that I resign.
So in the days to come, when I'm beyond
This fickle life, will come my lovers fond,
And gazing on the plant, their grief restrain
In whispering, "Lo! dear Anna blooms again!"





Next: THE SMOKER'S REVERIE.

Previous: A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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 2480