MEMORY GEMS. One to-day is worth two to-morrows.--Franklin Whilst we are considering when we are to begin, it is often too late to act.--Quintilian By the street of by and by one arrives at the house of never.--Cervantes When... Read more of PROMPTNESS. at Difficult.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

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



THOSE ASHES.








Up to the frescoed ceiling
The smoke of my cigarette
In a sinuous spray is reeling,
Forming flower and minaret.

What delicious landscape floating
On perfumed wings I see;
Pale swans I am idly noting,
And queens robed in filagree.

I see such delicious faces
As ne'er man saw before,
And my fancy fondly chases
Sweet maids on a fairy shore.

Now to bits my air-castle crashes,
And those pictures I see no more;
My grandmother yells: "Them ashes--
Don't drop them on the floor!"

R.K. MUNKITTRICK.





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Previous: THE TRUE LEUCOTHOE.




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