Summah night an' sighin' breeze, 'Long de lovah's lane; Frien'ly, shadder-mekin' trees, 'Long de lovah's lane. White folks' wo'k all done up gran'-- Me an' 'Mandy han'-in-han' Struttin' lak we owned de lan', 'Long de lovah's lane. ... Read more of Lover's Lane at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

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

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



IF I WERE KING.








If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all, with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.

Art should aspire, yet ugliness be dear;
Beauty, the shaft, should speed with wit for feather;
And love, sweet love, should never fall to sere,
If I were king.

But politics should find no harbour near;
The Philistine should fear to slip his tether;
Tobacco should be duty free, and beer;
In fact, in room of this, the age of leather,
An age of gold all radiant should appear,
If I were king.

W.E. HENLEY.





Next: THE PIPE YOU MAKE YOURSELF.

Previous: A POT, AND A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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