<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419043" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Cry of the Dreamer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am tired of planning and toiling<br>In the crowded hives of men;<br>Heart-weary of building and spoiling,<br>And spoiling and building again.<br>And I long for the dear old river,<br>Where I dreamed my youth away;<br>For a dreamer lives forever,<br>And a toiler dies in a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am sick of the showy seeming<br>Of a life that is half a lie;<br>Of the faces lined with scheming<br>In the throng that hurries by.<br>From the sleepless thoughts' endeavour,<br>I would go where the children play;<br>For a dreamer lives forever,<br>And a thinker dies in a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I can feel no pride, but pity<br>For the burdens the rich endure;<br>There is nothing sweet in the city<br>But the patient lives of the poor.<br>Oh, the little hands too skillful,<br>And the child-mind choked with weeds!<br>The daughter's heart grown willful,<br>And the father's heart that bleeds!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, no! from the street's rude bustle,<br>From the trophies of mart and stage,<br>I would fly to the woods' low rustle<br>And the meadows' kindly page.<br>Let me dream as of old by the river,<br>And be loved for the dream alway;<br>For a dreamer lives forever,<br>And a toiler dies in a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Boyle+O%27Reilly">John Boyle O'Reilly</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=419043" data-title="The Cry of the Dreamer de John Boyle O'Reilly" data-description="I am tired of planning and toiling In the crowded hives of men; Heart-weary of building and spoiling, And spoiling and building again. And I long for the dear old river, Where I dreamed my youth away; For a dreamer lives forever, And a toiler dies..."></div> </div> </div>

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