The birds have slowly disappeared.

I never hear an owl in town and seldom see a hawk.

The blackbird and the thrush still do their best to sing the dawn

But now confused by lights from streets the birds no longer sleep.

The starlings are not heard above the London rush hour traffic.

It was a classic sound before.

The evening throng of choral song

Like the butterflies are gone.

I am glad that I recall the fields of sixty years ago

Before we lost the riches of the earth we knew before.

When we ceased to see the stars,

Obliterated by the lights of towns,

We ceased to see ourselves.