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So dies a lawn

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I have seen destroy a lawn.
From my office window I saw, in the front garden, a group of peasant-workers with the spades cut the grass, putting on his shovel under the cover of grass and rebound, taking away the surface layer and leaving the bare ground, a brown stripe. The slices were then thrown in a meadow of dried and taken away, who knows where and why.
gods who held the job took away thousands of young lives in the light plant, guilty only of being there, where they were planted, but where a higher deity had decided that they should not be. So
are things of the world.