". . . The sun had hardly risen when we left the house. We were looking for quail, each with a shotgun, but we had only one dog. Morgan said that our best ground was beyond a certain ridge that he pointed out, and we crossed it by a trail throu... Read more of What May Happen In A Field Of Wild Oats at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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



THE LOST LOTUS.








'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East,
There dwelt a race whose softly flowing hours
Passed like the vision of a royal feast,
By Nero given in the Baian bowers;
Thanks to the lotus-blossom spell,
Their lives were one long miracle.

In after years the passing sons of men
Looked for those lotus blossoms all in vain,
Through every hillside, glade, and glen
And e'en the isles of many a main;
Yet through the centuries some doom,
Forbade them see the lotus bloom.

The Old World wearied of the long pursuit,
And called the sacred leaf a poet's theme,
When lo! the New World, rich in flower and fruit,
Revealed the lotus, lovelier than the dream
That races of the long past days did haunt,--
The green-leaved, amber-tipped tobacco plant.

ANON.





Next: THE SCENT OF A GOOD CIGAR.

Previous: EDIFYING REFLECTIONS OF A TOBACCO-SMOKER.



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