Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 23.

None are so desolate but something dear,

Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd

A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 24.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,

To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.