Don't cheer, damn you! Don't cheer! br Silence! Your bitterest tear br Is fulsomely sweet to-day. . . . br Down on your knees and pray. br br See, they sing as they go, br Marching row upon row. br Who will be spared to return, br Sombre and starkly stern? br Chaps whom we knew - s0 strange, br Distant and dark with change; br Silent as those they slew, br Something in them dead too. br Who will return this way, br To sing as they sing to-day. br br Send to the glut of the guns br Bravest and best of you sons. br Hurl a million to slaughter, br Blood flowing like Thames water; br Pile up pyramid high br Your dead to the anguished sky; br A monument down all time br Of hate and horror and crime. br Weep, rage, pity, curse, fear - br Anything, but . . . don't cheer. br br Sow to the ploughing guns br Seed of your splendid sons. br Let your heroic slain br Richly manure the plain. br What will the harvest be? br Unborn of Unborn will see. . . . br br Dark is the sky and drear. . . . br For the pity of God don't cheer. br Dark and dread is their way. br Who sing as they march to-day. . . . br Humble your hearts and pray.