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Smoking Poems

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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



"KEATS TOOK SNUFF."








"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the
praise-worthy editorial research of Mr. Burton Forman."


So "Keats took snuff?" A few more years,
When we are dead and famous--eh?
Will they record our pipes and beers,
And if we smoked cigars or clay?
Or will the world cry "Quantum suff"
To tattle such as "Keats took snuff"?

Perhaps some chronicler would wish
To know what whiskey we preferred,
And if we ever dined on fish,
Or only took the joint and bird.
Such facts are quite as worthy stuff,
Good chronicler, as "Keats took snuff."

You answer: "But, if you were Keats--"
Tut! never mind your buts and ifs,
Of little men record their meats,
Their drinks, their troubles, and their tiffs,
Of the great dead there's gold enough
To spare us such as "Keats took snuff."

Well, go your ways, you little folk,
Who polish up the great folk's lives;
Record the follies that they spoke,
And paint their squabbles with their wives.
Somewhere, if ever ghosts be gruff,
I trust some Keats will "give you snuff."

_The Globe_, London.





Next: THE BALLAD OF THE PIPE.

Previous: THE DISCOVERY OF TOBACCO.



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