Here, where earth is dense with dead men’s bones.
Low and loud and long, a voice for ever,
Sounds the wind’s clear story like a song.
Tomb from tomb the waves devouring sever,
Dust from dust as years relapse along;
Graves where men made sure to rest and never
Lie dismantled by the seasons’ wrong.
Now displaced, devoured and desecrated,
Now by Time’s hands darkly disinterred,
These poor dead that sleeping here awaited