If the patient's mind is temporarily clouded through infection or suffering, he may be reacting to a delusion, an obsession, a fixed idea of disability, a terrifying fear. Sometimes he persistently refuses food, and gives no reason for it. T... Read more of The Deluded Patient at Overcoming Fear.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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



IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.








In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise,
Faces of olden days uprise,
And in his dreamers revery
They haunt the smoker's brain, and he
Breathes for the past regretful sighs.

Mem'ries of maids, with azure eyes,
In dewy dells, 'neath June's soft skies,
Faces that more he'll only see
In wreaths of smoke.

Eheu, eheu! how fast Time flies,--
How youth-time passion droops and dies,
And all the countless visions flee!
How worn would all those faces be,
Were they not swathed in soft disguise
In wreaths of smoke!

FRANK NEWTON HOLMAN.





Next: ASHES.
Previous: ANOTHER MATCH.




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
SHAREBOOKMARK


Viewed 918