There was once a king of Prussia whose name was Frederick William. On a fine morning in June he went out alone to walk in the green woods. He was tired of the noise of the city, and he was glad to get away from it. So, as he walked among... Read more of THE KINGDOMS at Stories Poetry.comInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...



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."



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2581