While working on a sermon the pastor heard a knock at his office door. "Come in," he invited. A sad-looking man in threadbare clothes came in, pulling a large pig on a rope. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked the ma... Read more of All In A Preacher's Day at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...



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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