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 sun
In long green grass that the east wind caresses
The seed of man is ravished by the corn.