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Smoking Poems

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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



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.



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