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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

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

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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



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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