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

Smoking Poems

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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



SMOKING AWAY.








Floating away like the fountains' spray,
Or the snow-white plume of a maiden,
The smoke-wreaths rise to the starlit skies
With blissful fragrance laden.

_Chorus._ Then smoke away till a golden ray
Lights up the dawn of the morrow,
For a cheerful cigar, like a shield, will bar,
The blows of care and sorrow.

The leaf burns bright, like the gems of light
That flash in the braids of Beauty;
It nerves each heart for the hero's part
On the battle-plain of duty.

In the thoughtful gloom of his darkened room,
Sits the child of song and story,
But his heart is light, for his pipe burns bright,
And his dreams are all of glory.

By the blazing fire sits the gray-haired sire,
And infant arras surround him;
And he smiles on all in that quaint old hall,
While the smoke-curls float around him.

In the forest grand of our native land,
When the savage conflict ended,
The "pipe of peace" brought a sweet release
From toil and terror blended.

The dark-eyed train of the maids of Spain
'Neath their arbor shades trip lightly,
And a gleaming cigar, like a new-born star,
In the clasp of their lips burns brightly

It warms the soul like the blushing bowl,
With its rose-red burden streaming,
And drowns it in bliss, like the first warm kiss
From the lips with love-buds teeming.

FRANCIS MILES FINCH.





Next: A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.

Previous: SUBLIME TOBACCO.



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 4488