Effect: The magician allows the spectator to choose a card. Once they see it, they slip it back into the deck. The magician then shuffles the deck and without warning tosses it against a nearby window. After all the cards settle, one is left sticking... Read more of Card Through The Window at Card Trick.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

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...

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...



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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