How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart
Eliza Cook
Why should we strive, with cynic frown, to knock their fairy castles down?
fairy cynic
memory heart sweet start plays
There's a magical tie to the land of our home, which the heart cannot break, though the footsteps may roam.
footsteps home heart break magical land
Who would not rather trust and be deceived?
trust
Though language forms the preacher, 'Tis good works make the man.
man work language good works
I love it, I love it; and who shall dare / To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
loving dare love
Better build schoolrooms for the boy,/ Than cells and gibbets for the man.
man boy
The coward wretch whose hand and heart Can bear to torture ought below, Is ever first to quail and start From the slightest pain or equal foe.
pain heart start torture hand coward bear
On what strange stuff Ambition feeds!
ambition
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