I had no thought of violets of late, The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet In wistful April days, when lovers mate And wander through the fields in raptures sweet. The thought of violets meant florists' shops, And bows and pins, an... Read more of Sonnet at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

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

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...



TO MY MEERSCHAUM.








There's a charm in the sun-crested hills,
In the quivering light of a star,
In the flash of a silvery rill,
Yet to me thou art lovelier far,
My Meerschaum!

There's a love in her witching dark eye,
There's a love in her tresses at play,
Yet her love would be worth not a sigh,
If from thee she could lure me away,
My Meerschaum!

Let revellers sing of their wine,
As they toss it in ecstasy down,
But the bowl I call for is thine,
With its deepening amber and brown,
My Meerschaum!

For when trouble would bid me despair,
I call for a flagon of beer,
And puff a defiance to care,
Till sorrows in smoke disappear,
My Meerschaum!

Though mid pleasures unnumbered I whirl,
Though I traverse the billowy sea,
Yet the waving and beautiful curl
Of thy smoke's ever dearer to me,
My Meerschaum!

P.D.R.





Next: OLD PIPE OF MINE.

Previous: MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.



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