Their armor for the strife;
And, with strong hearts, go forth to win
The battle-field of Life.
The good, the firm, the true, the brave,
The beautiful, are there;
Beside the stern, dark warrior’s helm
Float woman’s tresses fair.
Rose-lips are wreathed with lofty smiles,
Pale cheeks with ardor glow;
And fragile forms from easeful halls