First, separate all the cards by suit. Line up each suit in this order: Ace, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, J, Q, K. Next stack the packets on top of each other. Starting with the top card, deal off 21 cards, making sure that when you lay them down t... Read more of The Self-Arranging Deck at Card Trick.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...



MY CIGARETTE.








Ma pauvre petite,
My little sweet,
Why do you cry?
Why this small tear,
So pure and clear,
In each blue eye?

"My cigarette--
I 'm smoking yet?"
(I'll be discreet.)
I toss it, see,
Away from me
Into the street.

You see I do
All things for you.
Come, let us sup.
(But, oh, what joy
To be that boy
Who picked it up.)

TOM HALL.





Next: A BACHELOR'S VIEWS.

Previous: THE DUET.



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 3536