poetry for kid

in your arms was still delight
but alas, just dreams
days endeared to every muse
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
i cannot always feel his greatness
when i was broke in london
the long resounding marble corridors
no prey am i of poor thoughts
she knows a cheap release
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
the hypocritic days
hang no wreath
in the cloud-gray mornings