Hold a note in your hand (ten pounds or dollars) and rub it. Burn a green/blue candle that you have purified. Imagine swimming in a pool of notes and having everything that money can buy. Then say how much money yo... Read more of WEALTH SPELL at White Magic.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...



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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