Paradise?

I found this poem amo

ngst a collection written by my Grandmother. It was written in a very different time but captures the importance of making sure we don't lose sight of what we are trying to achieve. What do you think? Are we making places better than they were before?

Paradise – by Iris Goodwin

I had a little Paradise

Where I used to sit and dream

Neathe’ tall and stately forests

by a chuckling mountain stream.

It looked o’er green hills yonder

To the mountains far away

And the bushlands below me

Were unbroken either way.

The birds were there in coloured flames

And the deer were proud and tame

I called this place my paradise it could have no finer name

Now fifty years have passed me by

I went back there today

And when I looked for paradise I could not find the way

The birds were quiet, no flash of deer

The grass and streams had dried

The only trees around me there

Hung their branches as they cried

There was no birdsong chorus

From up there in the trees

Just the roar of saws and tractors

Came to my ears on the breeze

I guess I’d better move along

There’s nothing here for me

The only deer I saw today

Was hanging in a tree

They say it’s all for progress,

The say it’s being wise

And the goal that they are working for

It’s a world called - PARADISE