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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...



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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