FOREST HILLS

                  Our neighborhood is changing rapidly
                  As modest old frame houses are torn down,
                  Lots leveled, cleared of every bush and tree
                  To be a crenelated mansion’s ground.

                 The nouveau riche have found our ponds and lakes,
                  Our rolling hills and streets of ancient brick
                  A setting that the best impression makes,
                  Especially if one’s a former hick.

                  At least we have no crenelated walls
                  To keep the hoi poloi from coming through,
                  And plenty of old trees from which bird calls
                  impartially delight both me and you.

                      And our Lake Sue is open to all sorts
                      As kind with kind delightfully consorts.

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