A verb is a word which implies action or the doing of something, or it may be defined as a word which affirms, commands or asks a question. Thus, the words John the table, contain no assertion, but when the word strikes is introduced, somethi... Read more of THE VERB at Speaking Writing.comInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

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



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.





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Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



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