Surrounded by steel and concrete,
They say my life is dull;
“If you would grasp pure nature
Your life would be so full.”

But rational thoughts work for me,
Support and bear and lift,
And I am always thankful
For such a living gift.

I do not go on “field trips”
In car, with camera out—
Denouncing with my photos
And downing man with shout;

I do not scorn production
While using products fine,
Nor say man’s work is evil
When making his work mine.

Instead, I sing his praises
Who’s given me such strength—
These walks and stairs and towers
That add to my life’s length.

I do not march on cities
Down streets un-built by me,
To damn the mighty pavers
And their great industry;

I do not block the bridges
That lift me o’er the streams,
To rage against the masters
Of monumental dreams.

I do not switch the lights off
That guide my night-time sight,
To rap a rap of anger
‘Gainst they who give me sight.

Instead, I sing their praises—
These men of vent’rous thought:
You men of higher nature,
Be proud of what you’ve wrought!