Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day. Charlie Dickens, BLEAK HOUSE, CHAPTER XLVII, ‘JO’S WILL'.

In defence of the sentimental
Dickens gave readings of 'A Christmas Carol'-
That universally known 'dream of a book' - 
To an auditorium of 2500 working class people
Then, three hours later, he did it all again. 
Dickens said:"They lost nothing
 misinterpreted nothing,
followed everything closely,
laughed and cried... “and [they]
animated me to that extent that I felt
as if we were all bodily going up into the clouds together.”
This elevated mood is condemned by some
As exaggerated and self-indulgent.
But of what? Only tenderness, sadness, or nostalgia! 
Even a nostalgia for a life we're still living. 
This elevated mood, whether prompted by: Jo ~
The Crossing Sweeper from 'Bleak House' or
A snippet of an Elvis song, or a bunch of lillies,
Or the photo of a loved one, all provoke a feeling
Of tenderness or sadness or nostalgia or
A cocktail of all three. Ah! but to what degree?
The pedant postulates. That decreed by the
Apparatchiks of the Woke-left, the 'enlightened'?
Nah! Don't think so. What do those sloganeers
Understand that you and I don't? Nowt. That's what.