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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383764" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old Arm-chair</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare<br> To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair ?<br> I've treasured it long as a sainted prize ;<br> I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.<br> ' Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart ;<br> Not a tie will break, not a link will start.<br> Would ye learn the spell ? -- a mother sat there ;<br> And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In Childhood's hour I lingered near<br> The hallowed seat with listening ear ;<br> And gentle words that mother would give ;<br> To fit me to die, and teach me to live.<br> She told me shame would never betide,<br> With truth for my creed and God for my guide ;<br> She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer ;<br> As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I sat and watched her many a day,<br> When her eye grew dim, and her locks were grey :<br> And I almost worshipped her when she smiled,<br> And turned from her Bible, to bless her child.<br> Years rolled on; but the last one sped--<br> My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled :<br> I learnt how much the heart can bear,<br> When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now<br> With quivering breath and throbbing brow :<br> 'Twas there she nursed me ; 'twas there she died :<br> And Memory flows with lava tide.<br> Say it is folly, and deem me weak,<br> While the scalding drops start down my cheek ;<br> But I love it, I love it ; and cannot tear<br> My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eliza+Cook">Eliza Cook</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383764" data-title="The Old Arm-chair de Eliza Cook" data-description="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 ..."></div>
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