For what can I increase Or multiply, but curses on my head?
When you see millions of the mouthless dead Across your dreams in pale battalions go, Say not soft things as other men have said, That you'll remember. For you need not so. Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know It is not curses heaped on each gashed head?
Curses are like young chickens, theyalways come home to roost.
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