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

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...



SIC TRANSIT.








Just a note that I found on my table,
By the bills of a year buried o'er,
In a feminine hand and requesting
My presence for tennis at four.

Half remorseful for leaving it lying
In surroundings unworthy as those,
I carefully dusted and smoothed it,
And mutely begged pardon of Rose.

But I thought with a smile of the proverb
Which says you may treat as you will
The vase which has once contained roses,
Their fragrance will cling to it still.

For the writer I scarcely remember,
The occasion has vanished afar,
And the fragrance that clings to the letter
Recalls--an Havana cigar.

W.B. ANDERSON.





Next: THE BETROTHED.

Previous: MY PIPE AND I.



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 2587