How can you wander lonely as a cloud,
When you are always surrounded by a crowd?
The love for nature will never be observed,
As what you yearn is earn money and get it preserved.
The daffodils may even dance to-day;
The nature calls you every day,
But you overlook and turn to your building
And all you hear is your phone ringing.
You always protest that people don't feel,
Yet don't go towards nature, which can heal;
Thus, "The fault, dear Wordsworth, lies not in our stars---
It lies in ourselves, as was put to Brutus."
Make industries, make factories, burn coal,
Damage the nature y'all and play your role;
You will get to the top and yet feel low,
For nature says, "you reap what you sow."