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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

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

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...



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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