Classic Poem

Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a circle's square?
Or with tears bestrew the ground
If a wheel be far from round?
Be it straighter than a T-square,

Or the square of 16b 2 ,
If it be not so to me,
What care I how square it be?

Shall I cheer aloud, or laud
Things that others may applaud?
Or believe how fine and grand it
Is if I don't understand it?
Be it simple, clear, and plain
As the mind of Dr. Crane,
If it be a cloud to me,
What care I how clear it be?

Sound or spurious, gold or dross,
Art's but art that gets across.
If it hit nor mind nor heart,
It is anything but art.
Naught to me the noisy struggles
Of my friend, Composer Ruggles;
For if they be not for me,
What care I for whom they be?