Respected Sir,--On the twenty-seventh of February I was sent, on business connected with the stables at Maison Rouge, to the city of Metz. On the public promenade I met a magnificent woman. Complexion, blond. Nationality, English. We mutu... Read more of Addressed To The Advocate Who Defended Him At His Trial at Mystery Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

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

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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



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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