Once upon a time there were two men who had gone cliff climbing. Suddenly, one man lost his footing and went tumbling down to the bottom. The other man frantically screamed, "Roger!", and was relieved to hear a faint reply. "Okay Rodge," shoute... Read more of Idiot resuce at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

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

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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



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.



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 4025