Say the words, but know the reason:
Hatred comes in every season,
Love is all that’s really good,
And we’d have it, if we could.
Sing the song, but know the story:
Politics, both Whig and Tory,
Is a thing of stone and wood,
And we’d build it, if we could.
There’s a bridge that knows tomorrow,
Out where none must lend or borrow,
Shielded off from pain and sorrow
Past the Seven Acre Wood
Move the stones, but know the answer:
Love is made for dance and dancer:
All we do, or should, or would –
And we’d have it, if