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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...



THE BALLAD OF THE PIPE.








Oh, give me but Virginia's weed,
An earthen bowl, a stem of reed,
What care I for the weather?
Though winter freeze and summer broil
We rest us from our days of toil
My Pipe and I together!

Like to a priest of sacred fane,
I nightly light the glow again
With reverence and pleasure;
For through this plain and modest bowl
I coax sweet mem'ry to my soul
And many trippings measure!

There's comfort in each puff of smoke,
Defiance to ill-fortune's stroke
And happiness forever!
There grows a volume full of thought
And humor, than the book you bought
Holds nothing half so clever!

The summer fragrance, all pent up
Among the leaves, is here sent up
In dreams of summer glory;
And these blue clouds that slowly rise
Were colored by the summer skies,
And tell a summer story.

And oh! the happiest, sweetest times
Come ringing all their silver chimes
Of merry songs and laughter;
And all that may be well and worth
For Mother Future to bring forth
I do imagine after.

What care I if my poor means
Clad not my walls with splendid scenes
And pictures by the masters;
Here in the curling smoke-wreath glow
Bold hills and lovely vales below,
And brooks with nodding asters.

All that on earth is fair and fine,
This fragrant magic makes it mine,
And gives me sole dominion;
And if you call me fanciful,
I only take a stronger pull,
And laugh at your opinion.

Let others fret and fume with care,
'Tis easy finding everywhere,
But happiness is rarer;
And if I find it sweet and ripe,
In this tobacco and my pipe,
I'll count it all the fairer.

Then give me but Virginia's weed,
An earthen bowl, a stem of reed,
What care I for the weather?
Though winter freeze, or summer broil
We rest us from the days of toil,
My Pipe and I together.

HERMANN RAVE.





Next: THE OLD CLAY PIPE.

Previous: "KEATS TOOK SNUFF."



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