Skyscrapers now stand
Where oaks once grew.
Power plants displace our cornfields
On that lovely land.
The breeze roughly sidles and bends
Over the purling brooks,
And all the mockingbirds hush
As the day droops.
Wailing moans heard everywhere
By countless orphans of the east,
Longing for a lofty peace,
Never knowing what fate conceives.
Neither chilly blizzards
Nor scorching sun,
Can lay a trap under its debris.
For those who learned too late, perhaps,
How to defy the pull of the sand.