A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt br Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies, br Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt. br Corpses are scattered through a paradise. br Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries: br 'Waste no compassion on these separate dead!' br Statistics justify and scholars seize br The salients of colonial policy. br What is that to the white child hacked in bed? br To savages, expendable as Jews? br Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break br In a white dust of ibises whose cries br Have wheeled since civilizations dawn br From the parched river or beast-teeming plain. br The violence of beast on beast is read br As natural law, but upright man br Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain. br Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars br Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum, br While he calls courage still that native dread br Of the white peace contracted by the dead. br br Again brutish necessity wipes its hands br Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again br A waste of our compassion, as with Spain, br The gorilla wrestles with the superman.