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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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



THE BALLAD OF THE PIPE.








Oh, give me but Virginia's weed,
An earthen bowl, a stem of reed,
What care I for the weather?
Though winter freeze and summer broil
We rest us from our days of toil
My Pipe and I together!

Like to a priest of sacred fane,
I nightly light the glow again
With reverence and pleasure;
For through this plain and modest bowl
I coax sweet mem'ry to my soul
And many trippings measure!

There's comfort in each puff of smoke,
Defiance to ill-fortune's stroke
And happiness forever!
There grows a volume full of thought
And humor, than the book you bought
Holds nothing half so clever!

The summer fragrance, all pent up
Among the leaves, is here sent up
In dreams of summer glory;
And these blue clouds that slowly rise
Were colored by the summer skies,
And tell a summer story.

And oh! the happiest, sweetest times
Come ringing all their silver chimes
Of merry songs and laughter;
And all that may be well and worth
For Mother Future to bring forth
I do imagine after.

What care I if my poor means
Clad not my walls with splendid scenes
And pictures by the masters;
Here in the curling smoke-wreath glow
Bold hills and lovely vales below,
And brooks with nodding asters.

All that on earth is fair and fine,
This fragrant magic makes it mine,
And gives me sole dominion;
And if you call me fanciful,
I only take a stronger pull,
And laugh at your opinion.

Let others fret and fume with care,
'Tis easy finding everywhere,
But happiness is rarer;
And if I find it sweet and ripe,
In this tobacco and my pipe,
I'll count it all the fairer.

Then give me but Virginia's weed,
An earthen bowl, a stem of reed,
What care I for the weather?
Though winter freeze, or summer broil
We rest us from the days of toil,
My Pipe and I together.

HERMANN RAVE.




Next: THE OLD CLAY PIPE.

Previous: "KEATS TOOK SNUFF."



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