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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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



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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