88 . We go no more to the Forest

(‘Nous n’irons plus au bois, les lauriers sont coupés.’)

WE go no more to the forest,

The rimus are all cut down.

They are built into roof and sill and wall,

Into floors that thrill to the last foot-fall

In the dancing of the town.

We go no more to the forest,

The kauris are all cut down.

They are built into ships so stout and strong,

Bearing their cargoes safe along,

Sailing from town to town.

We go no more to the forest,

The ratas are all cut down.

There are cornfields, golden and green and wide,

For the tangled depths where a world might hide,

And our lawns lie smooth in town.

We go no more to the forest:

Young, wild things are all cut down.

We are buying and selling and making love,

As the grown folk do, with a roof above,

And our hearts are at home in town.