Eliza Cook quotes

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'Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,
That's birthed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."
Though language forms the preacher,
'Tis "good works" make the man.
Who would not rather trust and be deceived?
Whom do we dub as Gentleman? The
Knave, the fool, the brute--
Why should we strive, with cynic frown,
To knock their fairy castles down?
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
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