Classic Poem

In Art's high name, in Love's name, in the name
Of man and woman, loose not thou thine hold,
O man, on woman! Woman, still enfold
In thy white arms man's strong form without shame.
Believe not Tolstoy, though the Russian's aim
Be noble. Nay, in lands and epochs old
The eternal truth by angels' lips was told:
Woman is man's sweet heritage to claim.

The truth as preached by Tolstoy is the lie
Most black that yet has darkened sea and sky
And robbed of every flower the fragrant land.
If woman's body be a thing impure
No sun can live, no star's crown can endure
And falls the sceptre from the Lord's right hand.