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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

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



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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