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Smoking Poems

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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



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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