It must be remembered that two negatives in the English language destroy each other and are equivalent to an affirmative. Thus "I don't know nothing about it" is intended to convey, that I am ignorant of the matter under consideration, but i... Read more of DOUBLE NEGATIVE at Speaking Writing.comInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

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

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...



THE LAST PIPE.








When head is sick and brain doth swim,
And heavy hangs each unstrung limb,
'Tis sweet through smoke-puffs, wreathing slow,
To watch the firelight flash or glow.
As each soft cloud floats up on high,
Some worry takes its wings to fly;
And Fancy dances with the flame,
Who lay so labor-crammed and lame;
While the spent Will, the slack Desire,
Re-kindle at the dying fire,
And burn to meet the morrow's sun
With all its day's work to be done.

The tedious tangle of the Law,
Your work ne'er done without some flaw;
Those ghastly streets that drive one mad,
With children joyless, elders sad,
Young men unmanly, girls going by
Bold-voiced, with eyes unmaidenly;
Christ dead two thousand years agone,
And kingdom come still all unwon;
Your own slack self that will not rise
Whole-hearted for the great emprise,--
Well, all these dark thoughts of the day
As thin smoke's shadow drift away.

And all those magic mists unclose,
And a girl's face amid them grows,--
The very look she's wont to wear,
The wild rose blossoms in her hair,
The wondrous depths of her pure eyes,
The maiden soul that 'neath them lies,
That fears to meet, yet will not fly,
Your stranger spirit drawing nigh.
What if our times seem sliding down?
She lives, creation's flower and crown.
What if your way seems dull and long?
Each tiny triumph over wrong,
Each effort up through sloth and fear,
And she and you are brought more near.
So rapping out these ashes light,--
"My pipe, you've served me well to-night."

_London Spectator_.





Next: ODE TO MY PIPE.

Previous: MOTTO FOR A TOBACCO JAR.



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