Excerpt
Short Summary: This collection of poems delves into the grim realities of war, using irony and vivid imagery to critique its glorification and highlight its devastating impact on humanity.
"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."
In this poem, Crane employs a bitterly ironic tone to juxtapose the perceived nobility of war with its harsh realities. The refrain "War is kind" serves as a stark contradiction to the vivid depictions of loss and death, emphasizing the senseless suffering inflicted upon soldiers and their loved ones. Through this poignant imagery, Crane critiques the romanticization of war and exposes its true, brutal nature.
