This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

Oh, Merry Go Round of life,

Treadmill of my dreams,

Concrete jungle,

Polluted Streams.

High-rise buildings blot out the sun,

Smog-filled air,

Slum sections teeming decay

And suppressed life, despair.

A question, urgently stirring

About wings spread and whirring.

Freedom to move in uncluttered space —

Tiny forms darting and blurring.

Will the swallows care to come back to Capistrano?