A poor child

I haven't learned the main lesson
Paris not well is worth the mass
My people, friends I love you more
Let’s beat the foe with fierce abhor

We have no books yet dusty glasses
We'll not become propertied classes
I always know that life is hard
That is why I trained the fists and blood

Wayfarer, crank, unyielding stoic
With faults and weaks I'm not heroic
Amid the dew, among the rime
I'm looking for a scanty rhyme

Ask anything, honorable public,
For luck, we still have a Republic
I am inspired by brilliant Wilde
Bring up my post, Robert Lee Frost

No questions, thanks and no applause
I’m zany naught as Mickey Mouse
The calming crowd is eating bread
But me the whole in awe and dread

I can perform in screaming silence
To stop the wars, combating violence
No obligations to anyone
I’m heading to a temple dome

The fleeting April, the blooming May
As summer ends someone will say:
'Your soul is brave, your heart is kind
But even stone and metal tired.

The weakened hands, a withered face, -
You need a tough and warm embrace;
A world aggressive, insane, and wild,
Enough to wander a poor child'.