Smoking Poems

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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,...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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