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

Smoking Poems

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

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...



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 2313