Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

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

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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

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



"A FREE PUFF."








Do you remember when first we met?
I was turning twenty--well! I don't forget
How I walked along,
Humming a song
Across the fields and down the lane
By the country road, and back again
To the dear old farm--three miles or more--
And brought you home from the village store.

Summer was passing--don't you recall
The splendid harvest we had that Fall,
And how when the Autumn died,--sober and brown,--
We trudged down the turnpike, and on to the town?

Sweet black brierwood pipe of mine!
If you were human you'd be half divine,
For when I've looked beyond the smoke, into your burning bowl
In times of need
You've been, indeed,
The only comfort, sweetest solace, of my overflowing soul.
We've been together nearly thirty years, old fellow!
And now, you must admit, we're both a trifle mellow.
We have had our share of joys and a deal of sorrows,
And while we're only waiting for a few more to-morrows,
Others will come, and others will go,
And Time will gather what Youth will sow;
But we together will go down the rough
Road to the end, and to the end--puff.

ARTHUR IRVING GRAY.





Next: MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.

Previous: WRONGFELLOW.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 10577