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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

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

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...



TOBACCO.








The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;
And even such, gone with a touch,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Thinke thou beholdst the vanity
Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soule defil'd with sin,
And then the fire it doth require.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust return thou must.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

GEORGE WITHER, 1620.





Next: VIRGINIA'S KINGLY PLANT.

Previous: CANNON SONG.



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