Locus Classicus

Art is the kingly snow-cap on learning's height; It forms as great minds enter saturation range. It's a crowning beam that shines to truly show, That the lettered brain has finally come of age. Artistic flair is the finest of divine human skills. It's the life-giving power in the Creator's mouth That formed solid originals from old airy chills, Naming in full naught arbitrary west and south. Art is the queened stroke behind true science. Her restless instinct and wild wandering signs Are the sole philosophy fuelling erudite minds; Man’s only spark that all prudent reason binds. And fine poetry is the most knowing of earth's arts, Far mightier than sibling genres beneath our stars. Nifty verse gets brighter as every lower sister blurs, To show the path as the initial dark's oblivion starts. Sublime art is thus the neglected locus classicus; And to spurn poetry is to adore ignorance's curse.