A lion woke up one morning feeling really rowdy and mean. He went out and cornered a small monkey and roared, "Who is mightiest of all jungle animals?" The trembling monkey says, "You are, mighty lion! Later, the lion confronts a ox and fie... Read more of King of the jungle at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

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

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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



THE HAPPY SMOKING-GROUND.








When that last pipe is smoked at last
And pouch and pipe put by,
And Smoked and Smoker both alike
In dust and ashes lie,
What of the Smoker? Whither passed?
Ah, will he smoke no more?
And will there be no golden cloud
Upon the golden shore?
Ah! who shall say we cry in vain
To Fate upon his hill,
For, howsoe'er we ask and ask,
He goes on smoking still.
But, surely, 'twere a bitter thing
If other men pursue
Their various earthly joys again
Beyond that distant blue,
If the poor Smoker might not ply
His peaceful passion too.
If Indian braves may still up there
On merry scalpings go,
And buried Britons rise again
With arrow and with bow,
May not the Smoker hope to take
His "cutty" from below?
So let us trust; and when at length
You lay me 'neath the yew,
Forget not, O my friends, I pray,
Pipes and tobacco too!

RICHARD LE GALLIENNE.




Next: SWEET SMOKING PIPE.

Previous: MY AFTER-DINNER CLOUD.



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