An old man named Daniel Baker, living near Lebanon, Iowa, was suspected by his neighbors of having murdered a peddler who had obtained permission to pass the night at his house. This was in 1853, when peddling was more common in the Wester... Read more of Present At A Hanging at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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



TOBACCO.








Let poets rhyme of what they will,
Youth, Beauty, Love, or Glory, still
My theme shall be Tobacco!
Hail, weed, eclipsing every flow'r,
Of thee I fain would make my bow'r,
When fortune frowns, or tempests low'r,
Mild comforter of woe!

They say in truth an angel's foot
First brought to life thy precious root,
The source of every pleasure!
Descending from the skies he press'd
With hallowed touch Earth's yielding breast;
Forth sprang the plant, and then was bless'd,
As man's chief treasure!

Throughout the world who knows thee not?
Of palace and of lowly cot
The universal guest,--
The friend of Gentile, Turk, and Jew,
To all a stay, to none untrue,
The balm that can our ills subdue,
And soothe us into rest!

With thee the poor man can abide
Oppression, want, the scorn of pride,
The curse of penury.
Companion of his lonely state,
He is no longer desolate,
And still can brave an adverse fate
With honest worth and thee!

All honor to the patriot bold
Who brought, instead of promised gold,
Thy leaf to Britain's shore.
It cost him life; but thou shalt raise
A cloud of fragrance to his praise,
And bards shall hail in deathless lays
The valiant knight of yore.

Ay, Raleigh! thou wilt live till Time
Shall ring his last oblivious chime,
The fruitful theme of story;
And man in ages hence shall tell
How greatness, virtue, wisdom, fell,
When England sounded out thy knell,
And dimmed her ancient glory.

And thou, O plant! shalt keep his name
Unwithered in the scroll of fame,
And teach us to remember;
He gave with thee content and peace,
Bestow'd on life a longer lease,
And bidding every trouble cease,
Made summer of December.

THOMAS JONES.





Next: THE CIGAR.

Previous: TOBACCO IS AN INDIAN WEED.



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