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I posted this in another thread about Paul Ehrlich, author of “The Population Bomb” back in 1968 -— it might fit here because it is poetry, although it conflicts with my current beliefs about our world situation:

A group of speakers came to my High School somewhere between 1968-1970, and was quite convincing, to a bunch of kids, with their doomsday warnings. I still remember their song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK3oWQfb_2M

We were true believers because we were children, not adults who could see through their lies and distortions. This is © verse I wrote circa 1970 some time after his presentation:

The earth was fine when it began,
And then the thinking creature, Man,
Began his funny little life.
He “tamed” an Earth that knew no strife.
He learned to fly the sunlit skies,
To ride the seas, to organize.
He taught Earth how to give up ore,
First sane amounts, then more and more.
Refined the Earth without a care.
His great new future choked the air.
The blackened water was his drink,
He didn’t seem to mind its stink.
He built strong bombs of every kind,
No ounce of fear crept through his mind,
Then used those bombs with shouts and cheers.
The Angels wept in fallout tears.
But Earth why are you now so green,
So pretty, bright, and so serene?
Look what you’ve lost! Or have you gained?
Was Man the thorn that bruised and pained?
‘Twas then that Earth, just as before,
Saw Eden again, but Man no more. ©

Here’s a pleasant and dreamy little poem I encountered while reading an old novel, written by William Wordsworth.
You may have seen it before during your primary school years

“I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud” (aka The Daffodil Poem)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’ver vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils.
Beside the lake, beneath the tress,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay.
Ten thousand I saw at a glance,
Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced: but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay.
In such jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude:
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils!