My View

A poor shabby boy;
But an ambitious poet,
And in most appealing way
He’d love for the world to know it.

For now he sits and dreams
Of which he can’t depart,
And deep in his soul lies
That beautiful hidden art.

God gives him the power
And a clean mind to compose,
He gathers beauties from an unseen garden,
Where he dwells when his soul is reposed.

He has a high standard in thought
As the richest man of the day,
And wears a smile, though destitute
For this is just his way.