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!