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Smoking Poems

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

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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