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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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



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 4170