Morning Lords Dance, Evening Lords Cry

Lords of the Morning dance
And Lords of the Evening cry
For on that day when war is done
As golden light is shed by the dawning sun
Merriment fills them that are off,
Off to win, not to die.
Yet when the sun's last rays tinge the sight,
It is merely more crimson in a sea of blood.
Now the Lords, battle won or lost,
If they do be good Lords,
feel naught but sorrow for men lost to the cudgel of war.
For the gain, made or not, was done on the trampled corpses of the dead