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Smoking Poems

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

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

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

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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



VIRGINIA'S KINGLY PLANT.








_BY AN "OLD SALT."_


Oh, muse! grant me the power
(I have the will) to sing
How oft in lonely hour,
When storms would round me lower,
Tobacco's proved a king!

Philanthropists, no doubt
With good intentions ripe,
Their dogmas may put out,
And arrogantly shout
The evils of the pipe.

Kind moralists, with tracts,
Opinions fine may show;
Produce a thousand facts,--
How ill tobacco acts
Man's system to o'erthrow.

Learn'd doctors have employed
Much patience, time, and skill,
To prove tobacco cloyed
With acrid alkaloid,
With power the nerves to kill.

E'en popes have curst the plant;
Kings bade its use to cease;
But all the pontiff's rant
And royal James's cant
Ne'er made its use decrease.

Teetotalers may stamp
And roar at pipes and beer;
But place them in a swamp,
When nights are dark and damp,--
Their tunes would change, I fear.

No advocate am I
Of excess in one or t'other,
And ne'er essayed to try
In wine to drown a sigh,
Or a single care to smother.

Yet, in moderation pure,
A glass is well enough;
But a troubled heart to cure,
Kind feelings to insure,
Give me a cheerful puff.

How oft a learn'd divine
His sermons will prepare,
Not by imbibing wine,
But 'neath th' influence fine
Of a pipe of "baccy" rare!

How many a pleasing scene,
How many a happy joke,
How many a satire keen,
Or problem sharp, has been
Evolved or born of smoke!

How oft amidst the jar,
Of storms on ruin bent,
On shipboard, near or far,
To the drenched and shiv'ring tar,
Tobacco's solace lent!

Oh, tell me not 'tis bad,
Or that it shortens life!
Its charms can soothe the sad,
And make the wretched glad,
In trouble and in strife.

'Tis used in every clime,
By all men, high and low;
It is praised in prose and rhyme,
And can but end with time;
So let the kind herb grow!

'Tis a friend to the distress'd;
'Tis a comforter in need;
It is social, soothing, blest;
It has fragrance, force, and zest;
Then hail the kingly weed!

ANON.





Next: TOO GREAT A SACRIFICE.

Previous: TOBACCO.



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