Eliza Cook (24 December 1818 – 23 September 1889 / London Road / Southwark / England)
'''Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,Eliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. "An Englishman."
That's birthed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."''
''Why should we strive, with cynic frown,Eliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. Oh! Dear to Memory.
To knock their fairy castles down?''
''Whom do we dub as Gentleman? TheEliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. Nature's Gentleman, st. 1.
Knave, the fool, the brute
If they but own full tithe of gold, and
Wear a courtly suit.''
''Who would not rather trust and be deceived?''Eliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. Love On.
''Though language forms the preacher,Eliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. Good Works.
'Tis "good works" make the man.''
''Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that startEliza Cook (1818-1889), British poet. Old Dobbin, st. 16.
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!''
''I love it, I love it; and who shall dareEliza Cook (1818-1889), U.S. poet. The Old Arm-Chair (l. 1-2). . . Anthology of American Poetry. George Gesner, ed. (1983) Avenel Books.
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?''
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The Old Arm-chair
I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair ?
I've treasured it long as a sainted prize ;
I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
' Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart ;
Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
Would ye learn the spell ? -- a mother sat there ;
And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.