"Friends, fellow mortals, bearers of the ghost That burns, and breaks its lamp, but is not lost. This day, for one brief hour, a key is given To all, however poor, to enter heaven. The Bringers Down of Beauty from the stars, Have reached this city in their golden cars. They ask, to bring you beauty, if you will. You do not answer: rightly, you are still. But you will come, to watch the image move Of all you dreamed or had the strength to love. Come to the Ring, the image of the path That this our planet through the Heaven hath; Behold man's skill, man's wisdom, man's delight, And woman's beauty, imaged to the height. Come, for our rulers come; and Death, whose feet Tread at the door, permits a minute's sweet; To each man's soul vouchsafes a glimpse, a gleam, A touch, a breath of his intensest dream. Now, to that glimpse, that moment, come with me; Our rulers come. O brother let there be Such welcome to our Prince as never was. Let there be flowers under foot, not grass, Flowers and scented rushes and the sprays Of purple bramble reddening into blaze. Let there be bells rung backward till the tune Be as the joy of all the bees in June. Let float your flags, and let your lanterns rise Like fruit upon the trees in Paradise, In many-coloured lights as rich as Rome O'er road and tent; and let the children come, It is their world, these Beauty Dwellers bring." Then, like the song of all the birds of spring He played his flute, and all who heard it cried, "Strew flowers before our rulers to the Ring." The courtiers hurried for their coats of pride The upturned faces in that market wide Glowed in the sunset to a beauty grave Such as the faces of immortals have. And work was laid aside on desk and bench, The red-lined ledger summed no penny more, From lamp-blacked fingers the mechanic's wrench Dropped to the kinking wheel chains on the floor, The farmer shut the hen roost: at the store The boys put up the shutters and ran hooting Wild with delight in freedom to the fluting. And now the fluting led that gathered tide Of men and women forward through the town, And flowers seemed to fall from every side, White starry blossoms such as brooks bow down, White petals clinging in the hair and gown; And those who marched there thought that starry flowers Grew at their sides, as though the streets were bowers. And all, in marching, thought, "We go to see Life, not the daily coil, but as it is Lived in its beauty in eternity, Above base aim, beyond our miseries; Life that is speed and colour and bright bliss, And beauty seen and strained for, and possest Even as a star forever in the breast."