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Smoking Poems

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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



TO A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest,
Belov'd and honored by the wise,
Come filled with honest "Weekly's best,"
And kindled from the lofty skies.

While round me clouds of incense roll,
With guiltless joys you charm the sense,
And nobler pleasure to the soul
In hints of moral truth dispense.

Soon as you feel th' enliv'ning ray,
To dust you hasten to return,
And teach me that my earliest day
Began to give me to the urn.

But though thy grosser substance sink
To dust, thy purer part aspires;
This when I see, I joy to think
That earth but half of me requires.

Like thee, myself am born to die,
Made half to rise, and half to fall.
Oh, could I, while my moments fly,
The bliss you give me give to all!

_Gentleman's Magazine_, July, 1745.




In the smoke of my dear cigarito
Cloud castles rise gorgeous and tall;
And Eros, divine muchachito,
With smiles hovers over it all.

But dreaming, forgetting to cherish
The fire at my lips as it dies,
The dream and the rapture must perish,
And Eros descend from the skies.

O wicked and false muchachito,
Your rapture I yet may recall;
But, like my re-lit cigarito,
A bitterness tinges it all.

CAMILLA K. VON K.





Next: A GOOD CIGAR.

Previous: TOO GREAT A SACRIFICE.



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