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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

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

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



SMOKE AND CHESS.








We were sitting at chess as the sun went down;
And he, from his meerschaum's glossy brown,
With a ring of smoke made his king a crown.

The cherry stem, with its amber tip,
Thoughtfully rested on his lip,
As the goblet's rim from which heroes sip.

And, looking out through the early green,
He called on his patron saint, I ween,--
That misty maiden, Saint Nicotine,--

While ever rested that crown so fair,
Poised in the warm and pulseless air,
On the carven chessman's ivory hair.

Dreamily wandered the game along,
Quietly moving at even-song,
While the striving kings stood firm and strong,

Until that one which of late was crowned
Flinched from a knight's determined bound,
And in sullen majesty left the ground,

Reeling back; and it came to pass
That, waiting to mutter no funeral mass,
A bishop had dealt him the _coup de grace_.

And so, as we sat, we reasoned still
Of fate and of fortune, of human will,
And what are the purposes men fulfil.

For we see at last, when the truth arrives,
The moves on the chess-board of our lives,--
That fields may be lost, though the king survives.

Not always he whom the world reveres
Merits its honor or wins its cheers,
Standing the best at the end of the years.

Not always he who has lost the fight
Rises again with the coming light,
Battles anew for his ancient right.

SAMUEL W. DUFFIELD.





Next: INSCRIPTION FOR A TOBACCO JAR.

Previous: SONG OF THE SMOKE-WREATHS.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4112