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Smoking Poems

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...



THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.








Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh,
Briton of the truest type,
When that too devoted valet
Quenched your first-recorded pipe,
Were you pondering the opinion,
As you watched the airy coil,
That the virtue of Virginia
Might be bred in British soil?

You transplanted the potato,
'Twas a more enduring gift
Than the wisdom of a Plato
To our poverty and thrift.
That respected root has flourished
Nobly for a nation's need,
But our brightest dreams are nourished
Ever on a foreign weed.

From the deepest meditation
Of the philosophic scribe,
From the poet's inspiration,
For the cynic's polished gibe,
We invoke narcotic nurses
In their jargon from afar,
I indite these modest verses
On a polyglot cigar.

Leaf that lulls a Turkish Aga
May a scholar's soul renew,
Fancy spring from Larranaga,
History from honey-dew.
When the teacher and the tyro
Spirit-manna fondly seek,
'Tis the cigarette from Cairo,
Or a compound from the Greek.

But no British-born aroma
Is fit incense to the Queen,
Nature gives her best diploma
To the alien nicotine.
We are doomed to her ill-favor,
For the plant that's native grown
Has a patriotic flavor
Too exclusively our own.

O my country, could your smoker
Boast your "shag," or even "twist,"
Every man were mediocre
Save the blest tobacconist!
He will point immortal morals,
Make all common praises mute,
Who shall win our grateful laurels
With a national cheroot.

_The St. James Gazette_.





Next: TO AN OLD PIPE.

Previous: TO THE TOBACCO PIPE.



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