VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

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

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...



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 del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2959