The word 'FACETIOUSLY' contains the six vowels, A-E-I-O-U and Y, in their alphabetical order. Can you find another English word that does the same? ... Read more of The word 'FACETIOUSLY' contains the six vowels at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

The Betrothed.

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...



Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas--we fought o'er a good cheroot,
And I know she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing on Maggie's face.

Maggie is pretty to look at,--Maggie's a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must

There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay,
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away,--

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown,--
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' the talk o' the town!

Maggie my wife at fifty,--gray and dour and old,--
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket,--
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the

Open the old cigar-box,--let me consider a while,--
Here is a mild Manilla,--there is a wifely smile.

Which is the better portion,--bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

Counsellors cunning and silent--comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride.

Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close.

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a _Suttee's_ passion,--to do their duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty, will send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy, who read of the tale of my

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelve-month clear.
But I have been Priest of Partagas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love.

Will it see me safe through my journey, or leave me bogged in the
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful

Open the old cigar-box,--let me consider anew,--
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon _you_?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba: I hold to my first-sworn vows,
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for spouse!



Previous: SIC TRANSIT.

Add to Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network

Viewed 2929