After the burial-parties leave And the baffled kites have fled; The wise hyenas come out at eve To take account of our dead. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> How he died and why he died Troubles them not a whit. They snout the bushes and stones aside And dig till they come to it. They are only resolute they shall eat That they and their mates may thrive, And they know that the dead are safer meat Than the weakest thing alive. For a goat may butt, and a worm may sting, And a child will sometimes stand; But a poor dead soldier of the king Can never lift a hand. They whoop and halloo and scatter the dirt Until their tushes white Take good hold in the army shirt, And tug the corpse to light. And the pitiful face is shown again For an instant ere they close; But it is not discovered to living men – Only to God and to those. Who, being soulless, are free from shame, Whatever meat they may find. Not do they defile the dead man’s name – That is reserved for his kind. |
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