A cruel King was riding out one day, when he saw a fox attack a hen. But just then a dog ran after the fox and bit his leg. The fox, however, lame as he was, managed to escape into his hole, and the dog ran off. A man who saw him threw a ston... Read more of The King Who Grew Kind at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational.ca
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Smoking Poems

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...



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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