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Smoking Poems

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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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