VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.giveup.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...



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.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2565