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Smoking Poems

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

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



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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