<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Nationality</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have grown past hate and bitterness,<br>I see the world as one;<br>But though I can no longer hate,<br>My son is still my son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All men at God's round table sit,<br>and all men must be fed;<br>But this loaf in my hand,<br>This loaf is my son's bread.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dame+Mary+Gilmore">Dame Mary Gilmore</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=360272" data-title="Nationality de Dame Mary Gilmore" data-description="I have grown past hate and bitterness, I see the world as one; But though I can no longer hate, My son is still my son. All men at God's round table sit, and all men must be fed; But this loaf in my hand, This loaf is my son's bread."></div> </div> </div>

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