The secret of these hills was stone, and cottages br Of that stone made, br And crumbling roads br That turned on sudden hidden villages br br Now over these small hills, they have built the concrete br That trails black wire br Pylons, those pillars br Bare like nude giant girls that have no secret. br br The valley with its gilt and evening look br And the green chestnut br Of customary root, br Are mocked dry like the parched bed of a brook. br br But far above and far as sight endures br Like whips of anger br With lightning's danger br There runs the quick perspective of the future. br br This dwarfs our emerald country by its trek br So tall with prophecy br Dreaming of cities br Where often clouds shall lean their swan-white neck.