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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...



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 2954