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Smoking Poems

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...



"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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