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Smoking Poems

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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



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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