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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409014" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wide Spaces</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When my last long-beer has vanished and the truth is left unsaid; <br>When each sordid care is banished from my chair and from my bed, <br>And my common people sadly murmur: &quot; 'Arry Lawson dead,&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the man I was denounces all the things that I was not, <br>When the true souls stand like granite, while the souls of liars not – <br>When the quids I gave are counted, and the trays I cadged forgot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall my spirit see the country that it wrote for once again? <br>Shall it see the old selections, and the common street and lane? <br>Shall it pass across the Black Soil and across the Red Soil Plain? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall it see the gaunt Bushwoman &quot;slave until she's fit to drop&quot;, <br>For the distant trip to Sydney, all depending on the crop? <br>Or the twinkling legs of kiddies, running to the lollie-shop? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall my spirit see the failures battling west and fighting here? <br>Shall it see the darkened shanty, or the bar-room dull and drear? <br>Shall it whisper to the landlord to give Bummer Smith a beer? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will they let me out of Heaven, or Valhalla, on my own – <br>Or the Social Halls of Hades (where I shall not be alone) – <br>Just to bring a breath of comfort to the hells that I have known?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</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=409014" data-title="Wide Spaces de Henry Lawson" data-description="When my last long-beer has vanished and the truth is left unsaid; 
When each sordid care is banished from my chair and from my bed, 
And my common people sadly murmur: &quot; 'Arry Lawson dead,&quot; 

When the man I was denounces all the things t..."></div>
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