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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357493" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>City of Dreams</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, we might have a marvellous city<br>Were we only less keen on cash<br>Less avid for things - more's the pity <br>That fade and are gone in a flash,<br>A city where duffers in my line<br>In wrapt adoration fall flat<br>To behold its superlative skyline <br>But there isn't much money in that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, we might have a city most splendid<br>Were sordid self-seeking denied.<br>Were good taste and culture attended<br>By pride that transcends money-pride.<br>Then, urged by more glorious dreaming<br>Than moved beneath Pericles' hat,<br>We would out-Athens Athens in scheming<br>But - there isn't much money in that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So let's build our city according<br>To canons commercial and sane.<br>Where every house is a hoarding<br>And every 'palace' a pain.<br>Let us mingle the Gothic and Moorish<br>In the nice neo-Georgian flat.<br>What odds, tho' they blither it's boorish?<br>Who cares? For there's money in that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, let's have a conglomeration<br>Of all architectural ills.<br>We build for ouselves, not th enation,<br>And to advertise somebody's pills<br>With piles that are proud and pretentious<br>And styles that are 'pretty' and fat.<br>And a fig for their strictures sententious!<br>There's not a brass farthing in that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so we'll grow richer and richer<br>While curleywigs crawl the facade<br>Of the home of the sur-super-picture<br>Or pubs where the profits are made.<br>Yet - We might have a marvellous city<br>If we only knew how to grow fat<br>At the game. But we don't - more's the pity.<br>So there isn't much money in that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when we have piled up the riches,<br>And pass, and leave never a trace,<br>A grave-digger, with clay on his breeches,<br>Will come and pitch dirt on our face.<br>And our passing may serve to remind him,<br>As he gives the grave-mound a last pat:<br>'Well, he's gone; and he's left nought behind him,<br>And there isn't much honor in that.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357493" data-title="City of Dreams de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Oh, we might have a marvellous city
Were we only less keen on cash
Less avid for things - more's the pity 
That fade and are gone in a flash,
A city where duffers in my line
In wrapt adoration fall flat
To behold its superlative skyline 
But there..."></div>
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