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Smoking Poems

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

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

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

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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



SUBLIME TOBACCO.








But here the herald of the self-same mouth
Came breathing o'er the aromatic South,
Not like a "bed of violets" on the gale,
But such as wafts its cloud o'er grog or ale,
Borne from a short, frail pipe, which yet had blown
Its gentle odors over either zone,
And, puff'd where'er minds rise or waters roll,
Had wafted smoke from Portsmouth to the Pole,
Opposed its vapor as the lightning flash'd,
And reek'd, 'midst mountain billows unabashed,
To AEolus a constant sacrifice,
Through every change of all the varying skies.
And what was he who bore it? I may err,
But deem him sailor or philosopher.
Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest;
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opiums and his brides;
Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Though not less loved, in Wapping on the Strand;
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties,--give me a cigar!

LORD BYRON:

_The Island, Canto ii., Stanza 19._





Next: SMOKING AWAY.

Previous: THE DREAMER'S PIPE.



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