An old poem, made new by the game of four

I met a man on trek from an old land
Who said "Two vast sans body legs of rock
Rise in the wild. And near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a rent rock face does lie, that mock
and snub, much seen by all it took in hand,
Tell he who made it well its heat had read
That yet live on, cut fine on dead gray bits,
The hand that took them and the core that fed.
And on its base is set a text to hear:
'My name is Oz and king over each king:
Look on my acts, you bold men, and have care!'
I did not see more sign. Near to the bust
Of that full king size ruin, all wide and bare,
Past open sand the view is only dust.
--a poet from the UK, who made "Ode to the West Wind"

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If you want to play too, I ask to be able to send them to a pal of mine, who will use them for a task he has. I will give your name, if you want.


Edit: I had to fix one typo.