There was once a shepherd-boy who kept his flock at a little distance from the village. Once he thought he would play a trick on the villagers and have some fun at their expense. So he ran toward the village crying out, with all his might,-- ... Read more of THE BOY WHO CRIED "WOLF!" at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...



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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