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Smoking Poems

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...



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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