A football coach walked into the locker room before a big game, looked over to his star player and said, "I'm not supposed to let you play since you failed math, but we really need you in there. So, what I have to do is ask you a math question, and i... Read more of Football player test at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...



MY AFTER-DINNER CLOUD.








Some sombre evening, when I sit
And feed in solitude at home,
Perchance an ultra-bilious fit
Paints all the world an orange chrome.

When Fear and Care and grim Despair
Flock round me in a ghostly crowd,
One charm dispels them all in air,--
I blow my after-dinner cloud.

'Tis melancholy to devour
The gentle chop in loneliness.
I look on six--my prandial hour--
With dread not easy to express.

And yet for every penance done,
Due compensation seems allow'd.
My penance o'er, its price is won,--
I blow my after-dinner cloud.

My clay is _not_ a Henry Clay,--
I like it better on the whole;
And when I fill it, I can say,
I drown my sorrows in the bowl.

For most I love my lowly pipe
When weary, sad, and leaden-brow'd;
At such a time behold me ripe
To blow my after-dinner cloud.

As gracefully the smoke ascends
In columns from the weed beneath,
My friendly wizard, Fancy, lends
A vivid shape to every wreath.

Strange memories of life or death
Up from the cradle to the shroud,
Come forth as, with enchanter's breath,
I blow my after-dinner cloud.

What wonder if it stills my care
To quit the present for the past,
And summon back the things that were,
Which only thus in vapor last?

What wonder if I envy not
The rich, the giddy, and the proud,
Contented in this quiet spot
To blow my after-dinner cloud?

HENRY S. LEIGH.





Next: THE HAPPY SMOKING-GROUND.

Previous: LATAKIA.



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