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Smoking Poems

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

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

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...



"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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