The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day....

               from War is Kind

  Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
  Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
  And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
  Do not weep.
  War is kind.

      Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment
      Little souls who thirst for fight,
      These men were born to drill and die
      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.
  War is kind.

      Swift, blazing flag of the regiment
      Eagle with crest of red and gold,
      These men were born to drill and die
      Point for them the virtue of the slaughter
      Make plain to them the excellence of killing
      And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

  Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
  On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
  Do not weep.
  War is kind.
        Stephen Crane

                             They

  The Bishop tells us: "When the boys come back
  They will not be the same; for they'll have fought
  In a just cause: they lead the last attack
  On Anti-Christ; their comrades' blood has brought
  New right to breed an honourable race,
  They have challenged Death and dared him face to face."

  "We're none of us the same!" the boys reply.
  "For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind;
  Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die;
  And Bert's gone syphiltic: you'll not find
  A chap who's served that hasn't found some change."
  And the Bishop said: "The ways of God are strange!"
      Sigfried Sassoon