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<h2> IN ARMOUR, </h2>
<p>But wherein shall Art work? Shall beauty lead<br/>
It captive, and set kisses on its mouth?<br/>
Shall it be strained unto the breast of youth,<br/>
And in a garden live where grows no weed?<br/>
<br/>
Shall it, in dalliance with the flaunting world,<br/>
Play but soft airs, sing but sweet-tempered songs?<br/>
Veer lightly from the stress of all great wrongs,<br/>
And lisp of peace ‘mid battle-flags unfurled?<br/>
<br/>
Shall it but pluck the sleeve of wantonness,<br/>
And gently chide the folly of our time?<br/>
But wave its golden wand at sin’s duress,<br/>
<br/>
And say, “Ah me! ah me!” to fallow crime?<br/>
Nay, Art serves Truth, and Truth with Titan blows,<br/>
Strikes fearless at all evil that it knows.<br/></p>
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