Zola

 Because he puts the compromising chart 
Of hell before your eyes, you are afraid; 
Because he counts the price that you have paid 
For innocence, and counts it from the start, 
You loathe him.
 But he sees the human heart
Of God meanwhile, and in His hand was weighed 
Your squeamish and emasculate crusade 
Against the grim dominion of his art.
 

Never until we conquer the uncouth 
Connivings of our shamed indifference
(We call it Christian faith) are we to scan 
The racked and shrieking hideousness of Truth 
To find, in hate’s polluted self-defence 
Throbbing, the pulse, the divine heart of man.

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