VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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



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 3104