A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, all working for NASA, were trying to figure out where to go on the next trip. The brunette said, "We should go to Mars." The redhead said, "We should go to the Moon." The brunette and the redhead sat the... Read more of Visit the sun at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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



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 2332