When Smilog Winked at Me

When Smilog mountain winked at me
And asked me once again,
Why did I leave his gentle slope?
And settle on the plain;
How could I quit his swirling mists?
With breezes fresh but tender,
The perfume of the shy foxgloves
The ash trees tall and slender.
My friend said I, you do forget
Once Smilog looked from high
Upon a vale unspoilt and green,
To which he gave a sigh.
Hidden in the morning mists
You dream the vale below
In gold and green is warmly bathed
By the sun's clear radiant glow.
How wrong you are my loyal friend,
For all has changed forever;
The air is dense with acrid smoke
That falls and stains the heather.
The sulphur fumes hum high to heaven
With day as dark as night,
Even angels cough and splutter above,
While from factory spills, the hills are
White.
So never again will I return
To rest in you're cool shadow,
But will stay forever where grass is green
Within my pleasant meadow.