#728 Interviewer: Watt McKinney Person interviewed: James Gill R.F.D. Marvell, Arkansas Age: 86 Occupation: Farmer "Uncle Jim" Gill, an ex-slave eighty-six years of age, owns a nice two hundred acre farm ... Read more of James Gill at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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



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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