The 'good Old Times' - All Times

Think'st Thou There Is No Tyranny But That Of Blood And Chains? The Despotism Of Vice-- The Weakness And The Wickedness Of Luxury-- The Negligence--the Apathy--the Evils Of Sensual Sloth--produces Ten Thousand Tyrants, Whose Delegated Cruelty Surpasses The Worst Acts Of One Energetic Master, However Harsh And Hard In His Own Bearing.

Oh! Might I Kiss Those Eyes Of Fire, A Million Scarce Would Quench Desire; Still Would I Steep My Lips In Bliss, And Dwell An Age On Every Kiss; Nor Then My Soul Should Sated Be, Still Would I Kiss And Cling To Thee: Nought Should My Kiss From Thine Dissever, Still Would We Kiss And Kiss For Ever; E'en Though The Numbers Did Exceed The Yellow Harvest's Countless Seed; To Part Would Be A Vain Endeavour: Could I Desist? -ah! Never-never.

I Would Rather Have A Nod From An American, Than A Snuff- Box From An Emperor.

Poetry Should Only Occupy The Idle.

In Solitude, When We Are Least Alone.