I stand beside these rank, grassed, mounded piles of soil
'Neath which the mouldering dead lie in repose.
Their mode of death reflects, I guess, the toil
We made of living then, which is fair enough.
Though what was it do you suppose
They thought about and lived life for?
That question might be too tough
For any one person's answer; too severe.
And Heaven only knows
The forgotten wisdom
That lies now buried here.