Apologies to Rupert Brooke,
Before you cry think of only this for free
That there are some corners of a child’s mind
That are forever failed by family. There shall be
In these once rich minds a sickened brain congealed
A mind of loins bore, shaped, made to despair,
gave, once, mans prejudices to love, his ways to follow;
A child of parents breathing poisoned air,
washed by ignorance, “blest” by sons of sorrow.
And think, this child all evil led astray,
A pulse in the perverted mind, un-bless
gives back somewhere the pain of parents given
their frights and hounds; ‘mares sad as the grey
and violence learned of fiends; and hatefulness,
in hearts at pace; under an England striven.