VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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



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 Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 3665