The Hyenas
After the burial-parties leave
And the baffled kites have fled;
The wise hyenas 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.)
The Bard on the Hill 
Good to see you posting Kipling’s poetry – I’m a fan of this much maligned, (by the usual suspects), great writer and poet.
Ah, yes – the prosers are always at it. If they can’t write poetry and only pose as poets, then they must malign those who can, and did.
🙂