O MOTHER EARTH! upon thy lap Thy weary ones receiving, And o'er them, silent as a dream, Thy grassy mantle weaving, Fold softly in thy long embrace That heart so worn and broken, And cool its pulse of fire beneath Thy shadows old and oaken.... Read more of Randolph Of Roanoke at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

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

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...



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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