Apologies to Rupert Brooke,
Before you cry think upon this for free
That there are corners of some child’s minds
That are forever failed by family. There shall be
In those hoped rich minds a sickened brain congealed
A mind of loins born, shaped, made to despair,
gave at 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 mans 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 riven.