VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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



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.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 3059