A schoolboy named Bligh, who went to Launceston Grammar School, of which the Rev. John Ruddle was headmaster, from being a lad of bright parts and no common attainments, became on a sudden moody, dejected, and melancholy. His friends, seei... Read more of Dorothy Durant at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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



MY FRIENDLY PIPE.








Let sybarites still dream delights
While smoking cigarettes,
Whose opiates get in their pates
Till waking brings regrets;
Oh, let them doze, devoid of woes,
Of troubles, and of frets.

And let the chap who loves to nap
With his cigar in hand
Pursue his way, and live his day,
As runs time's changing sand;
Let him delight by day and night
In his peculiar brand.

But as for me, I love to be
Provided with a pipe,--
A rare old bowl to warm my soul,
A meerschaum brown and ripe,--
With good plug cut, no stump or butt,
Nor filthy gutter-snipe.

My joys increase! It brings me peace
As nothing else can do;
From all the strife of daily life
Here my relief is true.
I watch its rings; it purrs and sings--
And then it's cheaper, too!

_Detroit Tribune_.





Next: ODE TO TOBACCO.

Previous: A GOOD CIGAR.



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