This war’s dead heroes, who has seen them?
They rise in smoke above the burning city,
Faint clouds, dissolving into sky —And who sifting the Libyan sand can find
The tracery of a human hand,
The faint impression of an absent mind,
The fade-out of a soldier’s day dream?
You’ll know your love no more, nor his sweet kisses —
He’s forgotten you, girl, and in the idle sunIn long green grass that the east wind caresse
The seed of man is ravished by the corn.