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Smoking Poems

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


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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

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


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.




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