We now leave the domain of what must be considered Palmistry, the study of the Lines of the Palm--or Cheiromancy, as it was called by the Greeks from the word [Greek: cheir], the hand, and proceed to consider the meanings that can be derived fr... Read more of The Study Of The Shape Of The Hand at Palm Readings.orgInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

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



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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