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

Smoking Poems

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

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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



KNICKERBOCKER.








Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker,
Help me sing of Knickerbocker!
Boughton, had you bid me chant
Hymns to Peter Stuyvesant,
Had you bid me sing of Wouter,
He, the onion head, the doubter!
But to rhyme of this one--Mocker!
Who shall rhyme to Knickerbocker?
Nay, but where my hand must fail,
There the more shall yours avail;
You shall take your brush and paint
All that ring of figures quaint,--
All those Rip Van Winkle jokers,
All those solid-looking smokers,
Pulling at their pipes of amber,
In the dark-beamed Council Chamber.

Only art like yours can touch
Shapes so dignified--and Dutch;
Only art like yours can show
How the pine logs gleam and glow,
Till the firelight laughs and passes
'Twixt the tankards and the glasses,
Touching with responsive graces
All those grave Batavian faces,
Making bland and beatific
All that session soporific.

Then I come and write beneath:
Boughton, he deserves the wreath;
He can give us form and hue--
This the Muse can never do!

AUSTIN DOBSON.





Next: THE DISCOVERY OF TOBACCO.

Previous: TO MY CIGAR.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4227