Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.
The curious crime, the fine Felicity and flower of wickedness.
This could but have happened once,- And we missed it, lost it forever.
Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!
Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.