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Smoking Poems

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...



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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