The yellow streams remember their crystal before the steel-mills and the by-product plants came to burn the nights red with ambition and longing. The peaceful pines confide to April stars of other days before the coming of the slag-piles and the lonesome sky-scraper that points to heaven like an accusing finger. The summer nights throw a scarlet banner of industry across a smoky sky blending a love song to a challenge of "Watch me grow." |