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Smoking Poems

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

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

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

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

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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



PIPE AND TOBACCO.








When my pipe burns bright and clear,
The gods I need not envy here;
And as the smoke fades in the wind,
Our fleeting life it brings to mind.

Noble weed! that comforts life,
And art with calmest pleasures rife;
Heaven grant thee sunshine and warm rain,
And to thy planter health and gain.

Through thee, friend of my solitude,
With hope and patience I'm endued,
Deep sinks thy power within my heart,
And cares and sorrows all depart.

Then let non-smokers rail forever;
Shall their hard words true friends dissever?
Pleasure's too rare to cast away
My pipe, for what the railers say!

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 Folk Song._





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Previous: THE CIGAR.



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