656. It is unlucky to turn back for anything after you have set out to go anywhere. Prince Edward Island. 657. Returning to the house for something and starting again without sitting down is bad luck. Virginia. 658. I... Read more of Turning Back at Superstitions.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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



MY PIPE.








When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me;
When friends are fled, thy presence charms me.
If thou art full, though purse be bare,
I smoke, and cast away all care!

_German Smoking Song._





Next: THE FARMER'S PIPE.

Previous: TO C.F. BRADFORD.



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 2314