Silbury Hill

Ask in vain!
For we, the dead,
Speak not a word to you.
This thing was ours, not yours.

Gaze in awe,
On what we wrought.
There is no clue.
This thing was ours, not yours.

We, whose fingers bled,
Whose passions burned.
Care not for you.
This thing was ours, not yours.

Nigel Swift