Her golden lockes she roundly did uptye In breaded tramels, that no looser heares Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

[T]he State, instead of gaining a large body of useful intelligent men – beings of capacity and amiability, impressed with a sense of their duties, who might be potent auxiliaries in the development of the resources of civilization – is corroded with a class of sciolistical asses, whose brains are as worthless as their hearts are false; […]

No words can explain the way I'm missing you / Deny this emptiness, this hole that I'm inside / These tears, they tell their own story

Those who have successfully claimed the right to “ancient lights” down the years, understood this in a way today’s development-hungry councils do not.