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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

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



THE BALLADE OF TOBACCO.








When verdant youth sees life afar,
And first sets out wild oats to sow,
He puffs a stiff and stark cigar,
And quaffs champagne of Mumm & Co.
He likes not smoking yet; but though
Tobacco makes him sick indeed,
Cigars and wine he can't forego,--
A slave is each man to the weed.

In time his tastes more dainty are
And delicate. Become a beau,
From out the country of the czar
He brings his cigarettes, and lo!
He sips the vintage of Bordeaux.
Thus keener relish shall succeed
The baser liking we outgrow,--
A slave is each man to the weed

When age and his own lucky star
To him perfected wisdom show,
The schooner glides across the bar,
And beer for him shall freely flow;
A pipe with genial warmth shall glow,
To which he turns in direst need,
To seek in smoke surcease of woe,--
A slave is each man to the weed.





Next: ENVOI.

Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



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