Flighted Death

O half-broke wing-back, wind buoyed Kite -- Thou is beautiful! Thou'st cruelly conspired:- An all conquering indifference - yours a tyrant's ire! Yours the mewing notes of the notched pipe... You lent it out to give the reed high-pitched form; And, reflected in its final, crashing flight, Yours is the Phoenix's terrible, blazing silhouette! Long I have marveled at some other lines...and yet, Although awed at such perfect efficiency, upon sight Of one particular viciousness I felt forewarned Of a dreadful act soon to be committed; but might Well we excuse all murderous intent, for the higher Art of killing is not ours alone: all what we admire In war contained in a dart; even the night Will never have known such a terror! Then a solitary Bird tumbling down to tear at the rotting carrion.... But not before the crackling voice pleads: "we must Soldier on, we must soldier on, we must soldier on"..........