VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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



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.



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 2314