There was once a great king of England who was called Wil-liam the Con-quer-or, and he had three sons. One day King Wil-liam seemed to be thinking of something that made him feel very sad; and the wise men who were about him asked him w... Read more of THE SONS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR at Stories Poetry.comInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...



MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.








Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe
Thy scarred and blackened form,
For thou to me wilt ever be--
Whate'er betides the storm--
A casket filled with memories
Of life's Auroral morn.

Thou once wert fair like ivory rare;
Spotless as lily white;
Thy curving lines, like tendril'd vines,
Were pleasing to the sight,
And in thine ample bowl there lurked
A promise of delight.

Like incense flung from censer swung
Before some sculptured shrine,
To float along with prayer and song
To realms of bliss divine,--
Ascend thy fragrant wreaths of smoke
And with my thoughts entwine.

Old pipe, old friend, o'er thee doth bend
The rainbow hues of life,
While sorrows roll across my soul,
And peace is turned to strife,
And Faith drifts o'er a sea of doubt
With desolation rife.

Alas, that man or pipe e'er can
Wax old or know decay;
Alas, that heart from heart must part,
Or Love can lose its sway.
And death in life should cast its pall
Athwart the troubled way.

Tho' love be cross'd, and friends are lost,
And severed every tie;
Tho' hopes are dead and joys have fled,
And darkened is the sky;
We yet can warm each other's hearts,
Old meerschaum pipe and I.

JOHNSON M. MUNDY.





Next: A WARNING.

Previous: "A FREE PUFF."



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