Eliza Cook

“ 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. ”

“ I love it, I love it, and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? ”