We were walking around outside in my garden. At first my garden was all baren and there were no flowers, but as we walked through the garden, passed the rose bushes and such, they began to bare flowers. When the whole garden was in bloom, we sat dow... Read more of Growing Garden at My Dreams.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...



THE SMOKER'S CALENDAR.








When January's cold appears,
A glowing pipe my spirit cheers;
And still it glads the length'ning day
'Neath February's milder sway.
When March's keener winds succeed,
What charms me like the burning weed
When April mounts the solar car,
I join him, puffing a cigar;
And May, so beautiful and bright,
Still finds the pleasing weed a-light.
To balmy zephyrs it gives zest
When June in gayest livery's drest.
Through July, Flora's offspring smile,
But still Nicotia's can beguile;
And August, when its fruits are ripe,
Matures my pleasure in a pipe.
September finds me in the garden,
Communing with a long churchwarden.
Even in the wane of dull October
I smoke my pipe and sip my "robar."
November's soaking show'rs require
The smoking pipe and blazing fire.
The darkest day in drear December's--
That's lighted by their glowing embers.

ANON.





Next: AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.

Previous: CONFESSION OF A CIGAR SMOKER.



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