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Smoking Poems

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...



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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