by AE
All that heroic mood,
The will to suffer pain,
Were it on beauty spent,
An intellectual gain:

Had a fierce pity breathed
O'er wronged or fallen life,
Though strife had been unwise
We were not shamed by strife:

Had they but died for some
High image in the mind,
Not spilt the sacrifice
For words hollow as wind!

Darkened the precious fire:
The will we honour most
Spent in the waste! What sin
Against the Holy Ghost!
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