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Smoking Poems

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

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...



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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