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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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



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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