By the side of a wood, in a country a long way off, ran a fine stream of water; and upon the stream there stood a mill. The miller's house was close by, and the miller, you must know, had a very beautiful daughter. She was, moreover, very shrew... Read more of Rumpelstiltskin at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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.



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 2295