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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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



MEERSCHAUM.








Come to me, O my meerschaum,
For the vile street organs play;
And the torture they're inflicting
Will vanish quite away.

I open my study window
And into the twilight peer,
And my anxious eyes are watching
For the man with my evening beer.

In one hand is the shining pewter,
All amber the ale doth glow;
In t'other are long "churchwardens,"
As spotless and pure as snow.

Ah! what would the world be to us
Tobaccoless?--Fearful bore!
We should dread the day after to-morrow
Worse than the day before.

As the elephant's trunk to the creature,
Is the pipe to the man, I trow;
Useful and meditative
As the cud to the peaceful cow.

So to the world is smoking;
Through that we feel, with bliss
That, whatever worlds come after,
A jolly old world is this.

Come to me, O my meerschaum,
And whisper to me here,
If you like me better than coffee,
Than grog, or the bitter beer.

Oh! what are our biggest winnings,
If peaceful content we miss?
Though fortune may give us an innings
She seldom conveys us bliss.

You're better than all the fortunes
That ever were made or broke;
For a penny will always fill
And buy me content with a smoke.





Next: WRONGFELLOW.

Previous: AD NICOTINA.



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 3599