We were walking around outside in my garden. At first my garden was all baren and there were no flowers, but as we walked through the garden, passed the rose bushes and such, they began to bare flowers. When the whole garden was in bloom, we sat dow... Read more of Growing Garden at My Dreams.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

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



'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.



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2234