The Barren Land Poem by Herbert Dry

Oh barren land you lay desolate, your greenness and fertility
laid waste, your hills are stripped of tree and bush, you drink the blood of the fallen you have heard the cries of man

Your face is scared with shell and bomb, your grassland lay parched
with open crevice, the stench of death of animal and man like a low
cloud of early morning fog lingers in the air

Here the souls of men are swept away like dust driven in the wind, the clouds labor to give you rain but in vain there are no seed to bring life