Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

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

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...



SHE.








The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint!
Around my pretty, cherished book,
The odor vile, the noisome taint
Of horrid, stale tobacco-smoke
Yet lingers!
The hateful man, my book to spoil!
Patrick, the tongs--lest I should soil
My fingers!

This lovely rose, these lilies frail,
These violets he has sent to me
The odor of his pipe exhale!
Am I to blame that I should be
Enraged?
Tell Mr. Simpson every time
He calls upon me, Patrick, I'm
Engaged!

ARTHUR LOVELL.





Next: TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON.

Previous: A WARNING.



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 2935