I To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All e... Read more of A Scandal In Bohemia at Mystery Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

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

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

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...



'TWAS OFF THE BLUE CANARIES.








'Twas off the blue Canary isles,
A glorious summer day,
I sat upon the quarter deck,
And whiffed my cares away;
And as the volumed smoke arose,
Like incense in the air,
I breathed a sigh to think, in sooth,
It was my last cigar.

I leaned upon the quarter rail,
And looked down in the sea;
E'en there the purple wreath of smoke,
Was curling gracefully;
Oh! what had I at such a time
To do with wasting care?
Alas! the trembling tear proclaimed
It was my last cigar.

I watched the ashes as it came
Fast drawing toward the end;
I watched it as a friend would watch
Beside a dying friend;
But still the flame swept slowly on;
It vanished into air;
I threw it from me,--spare the tale,--
It was my last cigar.

I've seen the land of all I love
Fade in the distance dim;
I've watched above the blighted heart,
Where once proud hope hath been;
But I've never known a sorrow
That could with that compare,
When off the blue Canaries
I smoked my last cigar.

JOSEPH WARREN FABENS.





Next: LATAKIA.

Previous: MY LITTLE BROWN PIPE.



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