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poetry for kid

em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
mas alas, sonhos justos
os dias endeared a cada MUSE
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
sabe uma liberação barata
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
os dias hypocritic
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas

 



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