My Father's World

This is not my father's world,
no more resting in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas.
These wonders 
now wonders are not.

This is not my father's world.
The birds may carols raise,
but morning light and lily white
are not the recipients of praise.

This is not my father's world.
The battle has not been won.
We who loved this world from the gates are hurled,
by greed and hunger overcome.