Sit in front of a fire, go into alpha, and hold some kosher salt in your left hand. Allow your feelings for the one you love to go into the salt. Just as the salt is sprinkled on food to flavor it, visualize your love flavo... Read more of SALTED FIRE LOVE SPELL at White Magic.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

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



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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