Chrysler Building

Never again in our time
Shall such pinnacles leap to the sky,
These fabulous towering spires,
These airy mountains of glass
Are the signature of an age --
A way of life that must pass.

The delicate petals of stone,
The leaves of silvered steel,
The brassy gargoyles that fling
Their snouts to the imminent sky
Are praise of a greatness that lied,
Are wreaths for a world that has died.