And an empire of beautiful things, and the lips of the love who was mine.

We have vanished, but not into night, though our manhood we sold to

Neglecting the chances of fight, unfit for the spear and the bow.

We are dead, but our living was great: we are dumb, but a song of our

Will roam in the desert and wait, with its burden of long, long ago,

Till a scholar from sea-bright lands unearth from the years and the sands

Some image with beautiful hands, and know what we want him to know.

With saddle and spurs and a rein of gold