VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...



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 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 2502