Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. <br />Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky <br />And the affrighted steed ran on alone, <br />Do not weep. <br />War is kind. <br /> <br /> Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment <br /> Little souls who thirst for fight, <br /> These men were born to drill and die <br /> The unexplained glory flies above them <br /> Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom-- <br /> A field where a thousand corpses lie. <br /> <br />Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. <br />Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, <br />Raged at his breast, gulped and died, <br />Do not weep. <br />War is kind. <br /> <br /> Swift, blazing flag of the regiment <br /> Eagle with crest of red and gold, <br /> These men were born to drill and die <br /> Point for them the virtue of slaughter <br /> Make plain to them the excellence of killing <br /> And a field where a thousand corpses lie. <br /> <br />Mother whose heart hung humble as a button <br />On the bright splendid shroud of your son, <br />Do not weep. <br />War is kind.<br /><br />Stephen Crane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-war-is-kind/
