Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

Seasonable Sweets.

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

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

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


Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved,
High carved and plain, dark-hued and creamy,
Slim tubes for cigarettes reserved,
And stout ones for Havanas dreamy.

This cricket, on an amber spear
Impaled, recalls that golden weather
When love and I, too young to fear
Heartburn, smoked cigarettes together.

And even now--too old to take
The little papered shams for flavor--
I light it oft for her sweet sake
Who gave it, with her girlish favor.

And here's the mighty student bowl
Whose tutoring in and after college
Has led me nearer wisdom's goal
Than all I learned of text-book knowledge.

"It taught me?" Ay, to hold my tongue,
To keep a-light, and yet burn slowly,
To break ill spells around me flung
As with the enchanted whiff of Moly.

This nargileh, whose hue betrays
Perique from soft Louisiana,
In Egypt once beguiled the days
Of Tewfik's dreamy-eyed Sultana.

Speaking of color,--do you know
A maid with eyes as darkly splendid
As are the hues that, rich and slow,
On this Hungarian bowl have blended?

Can artist paint the fiery glints
Of this quaint finger here beside it,
With amber nail,--the lustrous tints,
A thousand Partagas have dyed it?

"And this old silver patched affair?"
Well, sir, that meerschaum has its reasons
For showing marks of time and wear;
For in its smoke through fifty seasons

My grandsire blew his cares away!
And then, when done with life's sojourning,
At seventy-five dropped dead one day,
That pipe between his set teeth burning!

"Killed him?" No doubt! it's apt to kill
In fifty year's incessant using--
Some twenty pipes a day. And still,
On that ripe, well-filled, lifetime musing,

I envy oft so bright a part,--
To live as long as life's a treasure;
To die of--not an aching heart,
But--half a century of pleasure!

Well, well! I'm boring you, no doubt;
How these old memories will undo one--
I see you've let your weed go out;
That's wrong! Here, light yourself a new one!



Previous: WHAT I LIKE.

Add to Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network

Viewed 5566