569. To dream of raw meat is a sign of ill luck. 570. To dream of eating meat is a sign of sickness. Boston. 571. To see while asleep fresh meats of any kind is a warning of death. Alabama. 572. To dream of blood is ... Read more of Miscellaneous at Superstitions.caInformational Site Network Informational.ca
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Smoking Poems

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...



OLD PIPE OF MINE.








Companion of my lonely hours,
Full many a time 'twixt night and morn
Thy muse hath roamed through poesy's bowers
Upon thy fragrant pinions borne.
Let others seek the bliss that reigns
In homage paid at beauty's shrine,
We envy not such foolish gains,
In sweet content, old pipe of mine.

Ah! you have been a travelled pipe;
But now, of course, you're getting stale,
Just like myself, and rather ripe;
You've had your fill of cakes and ale,
And half-forgotten memories, too.
And all the pensive thoughts that twine
Around a past that, _entre nous_,
Has pleasant been, old pipe of mine.

Old pipe of mine, for many a year
What boon companions we have been!
With here a smile and there a tear,
How many changes we have seen!
How many hearts have ceased to beat,
How many eyes have ceased to shine,
How many friends will never meet,
Since first we met, old pipe of mine!

Though here and there the road was deep,
And now and then the rain would fall;
We managed every time to keep
A sturdy forehead to them all!
And even when she left my side,
We didn't wait to fret or pine,
Oh, no; we said the world was wide,
And luck would turn, old pipe of mine!





Next: CANNON SONG.
Previous: TO MY MEERSCHAUM.


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