Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

                           Percy Bysshe Shelley                           
                        1792-1822                         

And as they were lain to rest in this ground
It absorbed many tears and absorbed the sound
Of crying of the many loved ones that were there
And the memories of them that were rare

  Of them, or about them, or where they were lain
So long ago by loved ones in pain
Their memories could perhaps bring a smile to their face
From a simpler time to this time 
And as I walked through and read each stone
I was saddened by the thought of the memories gone
These people that lived so long ago
And the descendants of them that do not know or care

Would they care that their ancestors were lain in this ground?
Would they even be happy that their graves had been found?
Would they come and visit this memorable place?
Would they clean and care, and its memory embrace?

Or would they not care as so many do?
I could only hope that this is not true
For this once beautiful spot that meant so much
It would be so sad that now is not

remembered