Did they with sorrow say a prayer
Before they felled your sturdy trunks
To clear the view and make aware
The world the name in sign so high?

What found a home in the little grove?
Just fat gray squirrels? Just stripéd skunks?
Or dwarves with glittering treasure trove?
But now they go away to cry.

What good this sacrifice to fame?
Atop that windowed cliff, the name
Announces worth in this our world:
Triumphant mammon again unfurled.

©2000, John A. Mills