It Was Not Well To Drive Men

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.

A Man Feared A Man Feared That He Might Find An Assassin; Another That He Might Find A Victim. One Was More Wise Than The Other.

It Was Not Well To Drive Men Into Final Corners; At Those Moments They Could All Develop Teeth And Claws.

Over The River A Golden Ray Of Sun Came Through The Hosts Of Leaden Rain Clouds.

A Mysterious Fraternity Born Out Of Smoke And Danger Of Death.