VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...



THE DUET.








I was smoking a cigarette;
Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey,
Were singing together a blithe duet,
And days it were better I should forget
Came suddenly back to me,--
Days when life seemed a gay masque ball,
And to love and be loved was the sum of it all.

As they sang together, the whole scene fled,
The room's rich hangings, the sweet home air,
Stately Maud, with her proud blond head,
And I seemed to see in her place instead
A wealth of blue-black hair,
And a face, ah! your face--yours, Lisette;
A face it were wiser I should forget.

We were back--well, no matter when or where;
But you remember, I know, Lisette.
I saw you, dainty and debonair,
With the very same look that you used to wear
In the days I should forget.
And your lips, as red as the vintage we quaffed,
Were pearl-edged bumpers of wine when you laughed.

Two small slippers with big rosettes
Peeped out under your kilt-skirt there,
While we sat smoking our cigarettes
(Oh, I shall be dust when my heart forgets!)
And singing that self-same air:
And between the verses, for interlude,
I kissed your throat and your shoulders nude.

You were so full of a subtle fire,
You were so warm and so sweet, Lisette;
You were everything men admire;
And there were no fetters to make us tire,
For you were--a pretty grisette.
But you loved as only such natures can,
With a love that makes heaven or hell for a man.

They have ceased singing that old duet,
Stately Maud and the tenor, McKey.
"You are burning your coat with your cigarette,
And _qu'avez vous_, dearest, your lids are wet,"
Maud says, as she leans o'er me.
And I smile, and lie to her, husband-wise,
"Oh, it is nothing but smoke in my eyes."

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.





Next: MY CIGARETTE.

Previous: IN ROTTEN ROW.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2614