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Smoking Poems

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...



MY PIPE AND I.








There may be comrades in this world,
As stanch and true as steel.
There are: and by their friendships firm
Is life made only real.
But, after all, of all these hearts
That close with mine entwine,
None lie so near, nor seem so dear
As this old pipe of mine.

My silent friend--whose voice is held
Fast for my ear alone--
Stays with me always, well content,
With Darby to be Joan.
No fickleness disturbs our lot;
No jars its peace to smother;
Ah, no; my faithful pipe and I
Have wooed and won--each other.

On clouds of curling incense sweet,
We go--my pipe and I--
To lands far off, where skies stay blue
Through all the years that fly.
And nights and days, with rosy dreams
Teems bright--an endless throng
That passing leave, in echoing wake,
Soft murmurings of song.

Does this dream fade? Another comes
To fill its place and more.
In castles silvern roam we now,
They're ours! All! All are ours!
What'er the wreathing rings enfold
Drops shimmering golden showers!

No sordid cost our steps can stay,
We travel free as air.
Our wings are fancies, incense-borne,
That feather-light upbear.
Begone! ye powers of steam and flood.
Thy roads creep far too slow;
We need thee not. My pipe and I
Swifter than Time must go.

Why, what is this? The pipe gone out?
Well, well, the fire's out, too!
The dreams are gone--we're poor once more;
Life's pain begins anew.
'Tis time for sleep, my faithful pipe,
But may thy dreamings be,
Through slumbering hours hued as bright
As those thou gav'st to me!

ELTON J. BUCKLEY.





Next: SIC TRANSIT.

Previous: A WINTER EVENING HYMN TO MY FIRE.



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