BY OVID (ADAPTED) Long ago, in the ancient world, there was born to the blue-eyed Nymph Liriope, a beautiful boy, whom she called Narcissus. An oracle foretold at his birth that he should be happy and live to a good old age if he "never saw ... Read more of Echo And Narcissus at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

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

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...



TO C.F. BRADFORD.








_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._


The pipe came safe, and welcome, too,
As anything must be from you;
A meerschaum pure, 'twould float as light
As she the girls called Amphitrite.
Mixture divine of foam and clay,
From both it stole the best away:
Its foam is such as crowns the glow
Of beakers brimmed by Veuve Clicquot;
Its clay is but congested lymph
Jove chose to make some choicer nymph;
And here combined,--why, this must be
The birth of some enchanted sea,
Shaped to immortal form, the type
And very Venus of a pipe.

When high I heap it with the weed
From Lethe wharf, whose potent seed
Nicotia, big from Bacchus, bore
And cast upon Virginia's shore,
I'll think,--So fill the fairer bowl
And wise alembic of thy soul,
With herbs far-sought that shall distil,
Not fumes to slacken thought and will,
But bracing essences that nerve
To wait, to dare, to strive, to serve.

When curls the smoke in eddies soft,
And hangs a shifting dream aloft,
That gives and takes, though chance-designed,
The impress of the dreamer's mind,
I'll think,--So let the vapors bred
By passion, in the heart or head,
Pass off and upward into space,
Waving farewells of tenderest grace,
Remembered in some happier time,
To blend their beauty with my rhyme.

While slowly o'er its candid bowl
The color deepens (as the soul
That burns in mortals leaves its trace
Of bale or beauty on the face),
I'll think,--So let the essence rare
Of years consuming make me fair;
So, 'gainst the ills of life profuse,
Steep me in some narcotic juice;
And if my soul must part with all
That whiteness which we greenness call,
Smooth back, O Fortune, half thy frown,
And make me beautifully brown!

Dream-forger, I refill thy cup
With reverie's wasteful pittance up,
And while the fire burns slow away,
Hiding itself in ashes gray,
I'll think,--As inward Youth retreats,
Compelled to spare his wasting heats,
When Life's Ash-Wednesday comes about,
And my head's gray with fires burnt out,
While stays one spark to light the eye,
With the last flash of memory,
'Twill leap to welcome C.F.B.,
Who sent my favorite pipe to me.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.





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Previous: MY CIGAR.



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