The Lost Art
The punctual old sun hung low in the sky
Flamboyantly painting the blue,
Creating a Nature's masterpiece
For man on earth to view.
Workers traveling along the black-top road
Scarcely turned their eyes to the west,
Deeply absorbed in the daily grind
They were hurrying home and to rest.
I stood on the bank and watched the parade
Transfixed by the wonders of life.
Here, in the midst of this beautiful terrain
I studied our pattern of strife.
Beneath this vault of infinite blue
Where millions live and die,
There are only a few of the hurrying throng
That study the earth and the sky.
The birds above and the fish below,
The mystery of living things,
And the potent power of tranquality
That loving all Nature brings.
Man in his quest for worldly goods,
Has forfeited a would of his own,
And from this reorientation,
Our civilization has grown.