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Smoking Poems

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

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

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

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...



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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