In Which Destruction Looms Complete

My love for beetles may not quite exceed
The love of Haldane's god for them, but might
Were they not also party to a deed
That haunts me with ill dreams in darkest night:
My fav'rite place on earth is dying fast.
Unlogged, unburnt (that part's our fault), it serves
Now as a beetle banquet. In the past
The trees stood green and tall, now -- this unnerves
Me vastly; red and dead, awaiting fire,
E'en as the barkies thrive, twig beetles join
The party. They'll kill off the rest entire;
Then fire will finish. We have now no coin
With which to bargain. Ah, my Snowy Range.
We have destroyed what we tried not to change.