An eminent doctor successfully attended a sick child. A few days later, the grateful mother called on the physician. After expressing her realization of the fact that his services had been of a sort that could not be fully paid for, she continu... Read more of Greed at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

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

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

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

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



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.



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