War Is Kind

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 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!

Repition:

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 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!

One War

The First Scenerio:

The Second

Senerio:

The Third

Scenerio:

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button

On the bright splendid shroud of your son,

Do not weep.

War is kind.

And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,

Eagle with crest of red and gold,

These men were born to drill and die.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.

Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,

Raged at his breast, gulped and died,

A wife's point of view on war

Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky

And the affrighted steed ran on alone

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.

surrendering by throwing up hands

pessimistic

her husband was strong and fought instead of running

war in the view of a mother

children dying before parents

nationalism

war in the view of a child

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button

On the bright splendid shroud of your son,

Do not weep.

War is kind!

death and destruction worth it?

Do not weep, maiden,

for 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 slaughter,

Make plain to them the excellence of killing

And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

sarcasism exalted by the exclaimation point

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.

repetition

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.

the love of killing

gruesome description to tell a child how their father died

"drill and die"

the miltia were born for this

dreary atmosphere

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,

Little souls who thirst for fight,

These men were born to drill and die.

Stephen Crane (1899)

The unexplained glory flies above them,

Great is the battle god, great, and his kingdom--

Do not weep.

War is kind!

Point for them the virtue of slaughter,

Make plain to them the excellence of killing

affrighted:

shroud:

to frighten.

a cloth or sheet in which a corpse is wrapped for burial.

Do not weep.

War is Kind.

A field where a thousand corpses lie.