Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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



HOW IT ONCE WAS.








Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood,
Or rather, sat,
Drank beer in plenty, ate abundant food;
For they to ancient customs still were true,
And smoked, and smoked, because they surely knew
What they were at.

William the Testy ruled New Amsterdam,--
A tall man he,--
Whose rule was meant by him to be no sham,
But rather like the stern paternal style
That sways the city now. He made the while
A rough decree.

He ordered that the pipes should cease to smoke,
From that day on.
The people took the order as a joke;
They did not think, who smoked from childhood up,
That one man such delight would seek to stop,
Even in fun.

But when at last it dawned upon their minds
That this was meant,
They closed their houses, shut their window blinds,
Brought forth tobacco from their ample hoard,
And to the governor's house with one accord
The burghers went.

They carried chairs, and sat without a word
Before his porch,
And smoked, and smoked, and not a sound was heard,
Till Kieft came forth to take the morning air,
With speech that would have burned them then and there
If words could scorch.

But they, however savagely he spoke,
Made no reply.
Higher and thicker rose the clouds of smoke,
And Kieft, perceiving that they would be free
Tried not to put in force his harsh decree,
But let it die.

_New York Sun_.





Next: HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.

Previous: SMOKING SONG.



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 2591