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Smoking Poems

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

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

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

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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."



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