I love dreams where one doesn't have sex, but there's a knowing checmistry and you feel, when you wake up, that it's been better than sex alone. My dream last night was a good friend (colleague) and I taking photo's of a fantastic lightning storm ou... Read more of Taking 'Photos at My Dreams.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...



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.



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