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
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Smoking Poems

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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 ...

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...



MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.








I beg you come to-night and dine.
A welcome waits you, and sound wine,--
The Roederer chilly to a charm,
As Juno's breath the claret warm,
The sherry of an ancient brand.
No Persian pomp, you understand,--
A soup, a fish, two meats, and then
A salad fit for aldermen
(When aldermen, alas the days!
Were really worth their _mayonnaise_);
A dish of grapes whose clusters won
Their bronze in Carolinian sun;
Next, cheese--for you the Neufchatel,
A bit of Cheshire likes me well;
Cafe au lait or coffee black,
With Kirsch or Kuemmel or cognac
(The German band in Irving Place
By this time purple in the face);
Cigars and pipes. These being through,
Friends shall drop in, a very few--
Shakespeare and Milton, and no more.
When these are guests I bolt the door,
With "Not at home" to any one
Excepting Alfred Tennyson.

ANON.





Next: TO MY MEERSCHAUM.

Previous: IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.



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