Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

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

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



THE PIPE CRITIC.








Say, pipe, let's talk of love;
Canst aid me? By my life,
I'll ask not gods above
To help me choose a wife;
But to thy gentle self I'll give the puzzling strife.

Thy color let me find,
And blue like smoke her eyes;
A healthy store her mind
As that which in thee lies,--
An evanescent draft, whose incense mounts the skies.

And, pipe, a breath like thine;
Her hair an amber gold,
And wrought in shapes as fine
As that which now I hold;
A grace in every limb, her form thy slender mould.

And when her lips I kiss,
Oh, may she burn like thee,
And strive to give me bliss!
A comforter to be
When friends wax cold, time fades, and all departs from me.

And may she hide in smoke,
As you, my friend, have done,
The failings that would choke
My virtues every one,
Turn grief to laughing jest, or painful thought to fun.

Her aid be such as thine
To stir my brain a bit.
When 'round this hearth of mine
Friends sit and banter wit,
She'll shape a well-turned phrase, a subtle jest to hit.

In short, my sole delight
(Why, pipe, you sputter so!),
Whose angel visage bright
(And at me ashes throw!)
Shall never rival fear. You're jealous now, I know.

Nay, pipe, I'll not leave thee;
For of thy gifts there's one
That's passing dear to me
Whose equal she'd have none,--
The gift of peace serene; she'd have, alas, a tongue!

WALTER LITTLEFIELD.





Next: A SONG WITHOUT A NAME.

Previous: MY CIGARETTE.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4086