There was once a little girl who was very, very poor. Her father and mother had died, and at last she had no little room to stay in, and no little bed to sleep in, and nothing more to eat except one piece of bread. So she said a prayer, put on ... Read more of THE STAR DOLLARS at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...



HENRY FIELDING.








Friend of my youth, companion of my later days.
What needs my Muse to sing thy various praise?
In country or in town, on land or sea,
The weed is still delightful company.
In joy or sorrow, grief or racking pain,
We fly to thee for solace once again.
Delicious plant, by all the world consumed,
'Tis pity thou, like man, to ashes too art doom'd.

ANON.




Tobacco, some say, is a potent narcotic,
That rules half the world in a way quite despotic;
So, to punish him well for his wicked and merry tricks,
We'll burn him forthwith, as they used to do heretics.





Next: TO MY CIGAR.

Previous: A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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