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Smoking Poems

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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



TOBACCO IS AN INDIAN WEED.








Tobacco's but an Indian weed,
Grows green at morn, cut down at eve;
It shows decay; we are but clay;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily white,
Wherein so many take delight,
Is broke with a touch,--man's life is such;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The pipe that is so foul within
Shows how man's soul is stained with sin,
And then the fire it doth require;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The ashes that are left behind
Do serve to put us all in mind
That unto dust return we must;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The smoke that does so high ascend
Shews us man's life must have an end;
The vapor's gone,--man's life is done;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

From "_Pills to Purge Melancholy_."





Next: TOBACCO.

Previous: SMOKING SPIRITUALIZED.



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