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Said the Bird

Now, what's this beast that made this world of whims?
Has torn our homes and left us in the cold?
Has mowed our grass, and maimed our very limbs?
Deprived us of the worms and perch to hold?
Has robbed our nests,
Detained our hopes or shoot us down as pests?

Is man its name, and beast it's really been?
Fouling the air, the sea or time itself?
When to wiping its race it now is keen,
Apocalypse having been stored in shelf
Where roosts the bomb
Which soon would make the Earth a large scale tomb!

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