Paradise Lost

New devices, new styles of communication

Once we would walk all the way to the farm,

And sundown would take all the time that we had

And we could watch dusk as it fell to the ground

Like a lantern turned lower and lower and down.

There were cows that passed by on their way to the barn

And we had to watch for our step and our shoes

And we would eat dinner right after the chores

And we would read books and stories and poems.

Such are the landmarks to which we refer

Such are the bookmarks and footnotes and scenes

That we use for our reading and thinking and dreams

That we've somehow mislaid on our way up to now.

We pass by a frozen pond bristling with geese.

Once we would shoo them off, put on our skates

And glide round the ice with the wind in our face.

Now we drive by in our cars and our trucks.

We have devices that carry one's books

Without straps, without weight, without pages to bend

And we now have apps that we take with us walking

And we now have chat rooms that take up our pens.

We are the last generation to read

From leather-bound quartos with gold-embossed spines

And soon our children will be in a time

When Stopping By Woods reads like Paradise Lost.