Green results from the mixing of blue and yellow in varying proportions according to the shade of colour required. Every dyer has his particular yellow weed with which he greens his blue dyed stuff. But the best greens are undoubtedly go... Read more of Green at Dyeing.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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

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

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

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



THE SMOKER'S CALENDAR.








When January's cold appears,
A glowing pipe my spirit cheers;
And still it glads the length'ning day
'Neath February's milder sway.
When March's keener winds succeed,
What charms me like the burning weed
When April mounts the solar car,
I join him, puffing a cigar;
And May, so beautiful and bright,
Still finds the pleasing weed a-light.
To balmy zephyrs it gives zest
When June in gayest livery's drest.
Through July, Flora's offspring smile,
But still Nicotia's can beguile;
And August, when its fruits are ripe,
Matures my pleasure in a pipe.
September finds me in the garden,
Communing with a long churchwarden.
Even in the wane of dull October
I smoke my pipe and sip my "robar."
November's soaking show'rs require
The smoking pipe and blazing fire.
The darkest day in drear December's--
That's lighted by their glowing embers.

ANON.




Next: AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.

Previous: CONFESSION OF A CIGAR SMOKER.



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