Lack of Harmony

[Mesalithasamut]

Life is not on the city street,
Nor where the greedy patrons meet;
Life lies not upon silk pillows;
But rather in streams and in grass,
And 'neath the wet weeping willows,
Where beavers, bears, and deer oft-pass.
Life is in the gardens of green,
Where genuine beauty is seen.
Nature, harmonious and pure:
She works always to replenish
What man plunders from her allure-
And whate'er from time does perish.
Though from beneath her branch we rose,
The greatest threat to her we pose.
It seems mankind wishes to dwell
Where green is gone and sand is well;
Where all is bleak and boughs don't swell;
A place which is torrid and fell.

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A simple poem about nature.