How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, when memory plays an old tune on the heart!
~ Eliza Cook
I prize the soul that slumbers in a quiet eye.
Who would not rather trust and be deceived?
A cheer then for the noble breast that fears not danger's post And like the lifeboat proves a friend When friends are wanted most.
There's a magical tie to the land of our home, which the heart cannot break, though the footsteps may roam.
