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(A poem written in 1968 but eerily prophetic):
The Mt. Holyoke RangeCome, trace again the outline of the hills
This range of mountains running to the east.
Against the lighter blue the current lifts
Unfurling waves that all but break, yet sweep
As magnet drawn to Belchertown, to spill
In wooded ripples undulating out.
An inland sea, these waves of sculptured green
Cast in an instant free of crested foam.
Eons ago, the valley heaved, was still.
Eons ago, the water rose and fell,
And trees found foothold on these ancient hills.
Now Amherst, Hadley, sheltered, grow and gaze
Upon this Holyoke range... Man's cunning brain
Could well outwit the reaches of his soul,
Destroy this altar of the spirit, leveling
The Notch with blasts, sealing off the green
With roads and houses greedy for a view.
Unheeded, man destroys what he needs most.
Safeguard today for those who follow us
The green of hills forever running east!
-Marjorie Atkins Elliott, 1968
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