Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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



THE FARMER'S PIPE.








Make a picture, dreamy smoke,
In my still and cosey room;
From the fading past evoke
Forms that breathe of summer's bloom.

Bashful Will and rosy Nell--
Ah, I watch them now at play
By the mossy wayside well
As I did twelve years to-day.

We were younger then, my pipe:
You are dingy now and worn;
And my fruit is more than ripe,
And my fields are brown and shorn.

Nell has merry eyes of blue,
And is timid, pure, and mild;
Will is fair and brave and true,
And a neighboring farmer's child.

Little maid is busy, too,
Making rare, fictitious pies,
Just as any wife would do,
Looking, meanwhile, wondrous wise.

Drawing water from the well,
Delving sand upon the hill,
Going here and there for Nell,--
That's her helpmate, willing Will.

Yonder, in the waning light,
Hand in hand the truants come,
Nell so fearful lest the night
Should fall around her far from home.

Fading, fading, skyward flies
This joy-picture you have limned;
Pipe of mine, the quiet skies
Of my life you leave undimmed.

Nell and Will are lovers now;
There they stray in dying light.
That's a kiss! Ah, well, somehow
Nell's no more afraid at night!

GEORGE COOPER.





Next: SONG OF THE SMOKE-WREATHS.

Previous: MY PIPE.



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 3346