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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...



"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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