Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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



TO MY CIGAR.








Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctor's spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.

What though they tell, with phizzes long,
My years are sooner past!
I would reply with reason strong,
They're sweeter while they last.

When in the lonely evening hour,
Attended but by thee,
O'er history's varied page I pore,
Man's fate in thine I see.

Oft as the snowy column grows,
Then breaks and falls away,
I trace how mighty realms thus rose,
Thus tumbled to decay.

Awhile like thee earth's masters burn
And smoke and fume around;
And then, like thee, to ashes turn,
And mingle with the ground.

Life's but a leaf adroitly rolled,
And Time's the wasting breath
That, late or early, we behold
Gives all to dusty death.

From beggar's frieze to monarch's robe,
One common doom is passed;
Sweet Nature's works, the swelling globe,
Must all burn out at last.

And what is he who smokes thee now?
A little moving heap,
That soon, like thee, to fate must bow,
With thee in dust must sleep.

But though thy ashes downward go,
Thy essence rolls on high;
Thus, when my body lieth low,
My soul shall cleave the sky.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.





Next: KNICKERBOCKER.

Previous: THE SCENT OF A GOOD CIGAR.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2583