Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County FEC Mrs. Richard Kolb Rewrite, Pauline Loveless Edited, Clara E. Stokes DORA FRANKS Aberdeen, Mississippi Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about five feet tall and w... Read more of Dora Franks at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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



ODE TO MY PIPE.








O Blessed pipe,
That now I clutch within my gripe,
What joy is in thy smooth, round bowl,
As black as coal!

So sweetly wed
To thy blanched, gradual thread,
Like Desdemona to the Moor,
Thou pleasure's core.

What woman's lip
Could ever give, like thy red tip,
Such unremitting store of bliss,
Or such a kiss?

Oh, let me toy,
Ixion-like, with cloudy joy;
Thy stem with a most gentle slant
I eye askant!

Unseen, unheard,
Thy dreamy nectar is transferred,
The while serenity astride
Thy neck doth ride.

A burly cloud
Doth now thy outward beauties shroud:
And now a film doth upward creep,
Cuddling the cheek.

And now a ring,
A mimic silver quoit, takes wing;
Another and another mount on high,
Then spread and die.

They say in story
That good men have a crown of glory;
O beautiful and good, behold
The crowns unfold!

How did they live?
What pleasure could the Old World give
That ancient miserable lot
When thou wert not?

Oh, woe betide!
My oldest, dearest friend hath died,--
Died in my hand quite unaware,
Oh, Baccy rare!

ANDREW WYNTER.





Next: A PIPE OF TOBACCO.

Previous: THE LAST PIPE.



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 3875