kid poem

my mother taught me that every night
i go my way complacently
i know what you're going to say
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
some one complained to the master
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
mysterious night
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
up from the meadows rich with corn
night was black and drear
a flying word from here and there
in the dark and peace of my final bed