I To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All e... Read more of A Scandal In Bohemia at Mystery Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

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

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

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



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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