Come, All Ye

Craftsman, your brightest light, painter, your fairest hue,

Poet, a faery scene, make tenser the old tale;

Music, let violins lead in the bands’ full sail,

And, Beauty dance with Strength, until the world renew.

Once, Beauty danced with Strength to give the God his due;

Thought gave his utmost stretch and Song his thrillest scale,

Beauty her scarlet gave and Strength his coat of mail...

Give, that we know again what once the happy knew.

Play, Music, play; dance on, you creatures of delight...

What though the God has gone, preserve the ancient rite,

Among the threat of wreck still speed into your pose.

So, in this dark of dusk, ere Death sweep all away,

Dream, at the least, may shine as sunlight on the clay,

And from the rosebush shed some shadow of a rose.

John Masefield