MARY AUSTIN Oh, the Shepherds in Judea, They are pacing to and fro, For the air grows chill at twilight And the weanling lambs are slow! Leave, O lambs, the dripping sedges, quit the bramble ... Read more of The Shepherds In Judea at Christmas Story.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...



THE TRUE LEUCOTHOE.








Let others praise the god of wine,
Or Venus, love, and beauty's smile;
I choose a theme not less divine,--
The plant that grows in Cuba's Isle.

The old Greeks err'd who bound with bays
Apollo's brow; the verdant crown
He wore, when measuring their days,
Grew in the West, where he went down.

An idle tale they also told;
They said he gave them frankincense,
Borne by some tree he loved of old;
If so, he gave a mere pretence.

For the true offspring of his love--
Tobacco--grew far o'er the sea,
Where Leucothoe from above
Led him as honey leads the bee,

Till on that plant he paus'd to gaze
Some moments ere he held his way,
And cheer her with his warmest rays,
Heedless of time or length of day.

Then with a sigh his brows he wreath'd
With leaves that care and toil beguile,
And bless'd, as their perfume he breath'd,
The plant that grows in Cuba's Isle.

ANON.





Next: THOSE ASHES.

Previous: A LOSS.



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