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. <br /> <br />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.<br /><br />Dame Mary Gilmore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nationality/
