Poem A Day

Answer to----'s Professions of Affection

by George Gordon, Lord Byron

IN hearts like thine ne'er may I hold a place

Till I renounce all sense, all shame, all grace--

That seat,--like seats, the bane of Freedom's realm,

But dear to those presiding at the helm--

Is basely purchased, not with gold alone;

Add Conscience, too, this bargain is your own--

'T is thine to offer with corrupting art

The _rotten borough_ of the human heart.

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Poem A Day

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