And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the Battle-God, great, and his Kingdom A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep.
War is kind.