The following particulars of the loss of this vessel are copied from a letter dated Boulogne-sur-mer, Sept. 1, 1833. The shocking event which is announced by the title to this letter, has, I assure you, filled the town with dismay, and must... Read more of Loss Of The Amphitrite Convict Ship at Sea Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

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

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

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...



TO THE TOBACCO PIPE.








Dear piece of fascinating clay!
'Tis thine to smooth life's rugged way,
To give a happiness unknown
To those--who let a pipe alone;
Thy tube can best the vapors chase,
By raising--others in their place;
Can give the face staid Wisdom's air,
And teach the lips--to ope with care;
'Tis hence thou art the truest friend
(Where least is said there's least to mend),
And he who ventures many a joke
Had better oft be still and smoke.

Whatever giddy foplings think,
Thou giv'st the highest zest to drink.
When fragrant clouds thy fumes exhale,
And hover round the nut-brown ale,
Who thinks of claret or champagne?
E'en burgundy were pour'd in vain.

'Tis not in city smoke alone,
Midst fogs and glooms thy charms are known.
With thee, at morn, the rustic swain
Tracks o'er the snow-besprinkled plain,
To seek some neighb'ring copse's side,
And rob the woodlands of their pride:
With thee, companion of his toil,
His active spirits ne'er recoil;
Though hard his daily task assign'd,
He bears it with an equal mind.

The fisher 'board some little bark,
When all around is drear and dark,
With shortened pipe beguiles the hour,
Though bleak the wind and cold the show'r,
Nor thinks the morn's approach too slow,
Regardless of what tempests blow.
Midst hills of sand, midst ditches, dikes,
Midst cannons, muskets, halberts, pikes;
With thee, as still, Mynheer can stay,
As Neddy 'twixt two wisps of hay;
Heedless of Britain and of France,
Smokes on--and looks to the main chance.

And sure the solace thou canst give
Must make thy fame unrivalled live,
So long as men can temper clay
(For as thou art, e'en so are they),
The sun mature the Indian weed,
And rolling years fresh sorrows breed.

From _The Meteors_, London.





Next: THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.

Previous: ON A TOBACCO JAR.



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