Vanity of vanities

I like writing poetry and as much as I am so bad at it, I still do it. But how I wish I could write it like this one on the vanity of life.

Grass
by Carl Sandburg
 
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.

pearlie