About three miles from the little town of Norton, in Missouri, on the road leading to Maysville, stands an old house that was last occupied by a family named Harding. Since 1886 no one has lived in it, nor is anyone likely to live in it ag... Read more of A Vine On A House at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...



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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