On wings of thunder, honor bound, Search me out, I drum the sound. Twist and turn in the night, Dragon come, my guiding light. Protector, guardian, friend not foe, Come to me, see my sigil glow. Strong and true, this friendship charm, I beacon... Read more of Dragon's Charm at White Magic.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...



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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