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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...



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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