Smoking Poems

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

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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