On 16th November, 1870, Mr. Shchapoff, a Russian squire, the narrator, came home from a visit to a country town, Iletski, and found his family in some disarray. There lived with him his mother and his wife's mother, ladies of about sixty-nine,... Read more of The Dancing Devil at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

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

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

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

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



SMOKING SONG.








With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl,
As mist from the waterfall given,
Or the locks that float round beauty's throat
In the whispering air of even.

_Chorus_. Then drown the fears of the coming years,
And the dread of change before us;
The way is sweet to our willing feet,
With the smoke-wreaths twining o'er us.

As the light beams through the ringlets blue,
Will hope beam through our sorrow,
While the gathering wreath of the smoke we breathe
Shuts out the fear of to-morrow.

A magic charm in the evening calm
Calls thought from mem'ry's treasure;
But clear and bright in the liquid light
Are the smoke-called dreams of pleasure.

Then who shall chide, with boasting pride,
Delights they ne'er have tasted?
Oh, let them smile while we beguile
The hour with joys they've wasted.

_College Song._





Next: HOW IT ONCE WAS.

Previous: THE SMOKE TRAVELLER.



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 3492