Jim Shorthouse was the sort of fellow who always made a mess of things. Everything with which his hands or mind came into contact issued from such contact in an unqualified and irremediable state of mess. His college days were a mess: he was ... Read more of A Case Of Eavesdropping at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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



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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