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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...

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

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

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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



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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