i was in a chocolate world and there were chocolate fountains and poles. oh it was so wonderful. everything was chocolate i ate chocolate and i never got sick of it. it was the best dream i have ever had!!... Read more of the fantastic at My Dreams.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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



THE HAPPY SMOKING-GROUND.








When that last pipe is smoked at last
And pouch and pipe put by,
And Smoked and Smoker both alike
In dust and ashes lie,
What of the Smoker? Whither passed?
Ah, will he smoke no more?
And will there be no golden cloud
Upon the golden shore?
Ah! who shall say we cry in vain
To Fate upon his hill,
For, howsoe'er we ask and ask,
He goes on smoking still.
But, surely, 'twere a bitter thing
If other men pursue
Their various earthly joys again
Beyond that distant blue,
If the poor Smoker might not ply
His peaceful passion too.
If Indian braves may still up there
On merry scalpings go,
And buried Britons rise again
With arrow and with bow,
May not the Smoker hope to take
His "cutty" from below?
So let us trust; and when at length
You lay me 'neath the yew,
Forget not, O my friends, I pray,
Pipes and tobacco too!

RICHARD LE GALLIENNE.





Next: SWEET SMOKING PIPE.

Previous: MY AFTER-DINNER CLOUD.



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