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Smoking Poems

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...



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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