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Smoking Poems

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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



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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