Art and War

WAR has its field of blood—heart-breaking War— Wherein to rule with undisputed sway Throughout its own mad, self-exhausting day. There, where it rashly sacrifices more Than laboring Time may ever quite restore, Shall it amid red welter and decay Strive horribly; but let it not essay To enter where Peace guards the Future's door!

War has nor right, nor privilege, nor part In lives high-dedicate the world to bind Through love and hope and the great dream of Art! All Lands to such are Fatherland; they find In alien realms love's grateful, welcoming heart— They, chosen of the Gods to bless mankind!