funny poem

little gate was reached at last
a storm is riding on the tide
there was a strangeness on your lips
in his guarded tent
the fragrance came
she heard the children playing in the sun
let us pity those who are better off than we are
these be
full of tears
high walls and huge
a bird sang
there is a city, builded by no hand
there is an hour of peaceful rest
do you remember