Two little children were sitting by the fire one cold winter's night. All at once they heard a timid knock at the door and one ran to open it. There, outside in the cold and darkness, stood a child with no shoes upon his feet and clad in ... Read more of THE FIRST CHRISTMAS-TREE at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

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



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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