The Hyaenas

After the burial-parties leave

 And the baffled kites have fled;

The wise hyaenas come out at eve

 To take account of our dead.

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 shewn 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.

Nor do they defile the dead man's name —

 That is reserved for his kind.