Take a piece of parchment or fine quality writing paper and inscribe the name of the target. Write it in a circle twice, so the ends meet. As you do this, concentrate on the person's face and your desire that they call you. Then, while still concentr... Read more of To get someone to call you at White Magic.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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



"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 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 9154