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

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...



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 2654