When excavating skeletons
beneath the pyramids of old,
what do intrepid diggers think
about the forms that they unfold?
When yet another mummy comes
out of the bowels of the earth,
what do intrepid diggers think
about the source of their own birth?
These men with spades who come from far,
from far away, from miles of sea,
what do intrepid diggers think
about their place in history?
For sometime soon their frames will join
the bones of those they dug up once,
what do intrepid diggers think
about the ending of their dance?
Do they just dig, these digging-men,
do they just dig and stretch and stand,
or do they ponder who will dig
when they have joined those under sand?