Forests of Concrete Grow Where Nature Made Homes

Rosshill Woods – the remnant of the southern part of Merlin Woods

A path led on in the peaceful woods,
And ended all too soon
Cut in two by a wide new road
Each side daffodils in bloom
Through which cars drove and lorries too
A meadow stands alone
Yet planners draw the dreams they saw
Where grass till now has grown.

The trees, alas, most are all gone
A forest cleft in twain
The marble taken to Belfast now
But a small amount does remain.
Down towards the sea the swamps filled in,
More houses for those with money to spare:
Let for profit to those who rent to never buy…
Dreams made and broken there.

The crows, the sparrows, the blackbirds too –
See less branches to build in each passing year,
For the worker too whose shrinking wage,
Less options to live local does appear.
That is progress – cut down the trees!
Tear up the grass and ground!
A city grows, and it shows…
Profit only, not Paradise to be found.

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