<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366030" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Well We Might</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">There once was time to sit and spin<br>The dream without, the light within<br>When young ideals like creed and rote<br>Would wreathe their blue tobacco smoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When wine was certain at each sip<br>When answers leapt at every lip, <br>Such were the days, when we all knew<br>If we were asked, what we would do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But life began to call us in<br>And time, as such, has grown so thin, <br>We rush to do the things we must<br>While dreams, ideals, are things of dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soon we turn our backs on them<br>Those shadows that were once young men<br>Who never dreamt hypocrisy<br>Would spill their dreams, philosophy; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And rule them with a rod of steel<br>And teach them well how not to feel, <br>And lead them blindly through their days –<br>They spare no thought for younger ways.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And where that dream, ideal, that once<br>Was held to spell deliverance? <br>Well we might ask, and well we might; <br>It’s life, not death, puts out the light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">26 September 1986</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</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=366030" data-title="Well We Might de David Lewis Paget" data-description="There once was time to sit and spin The dream without, the light within When young ideals like creed and rote Would wreathe their blue tobacco smoke. When wine was certain at each sip When answers leapt at every lip, Such were the days, when we ..."></div> </div> </div>

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