A SUIT of motley and a cap and bells:
I know, grave mentor, such a wear beseems
The bootless builder of the house of dreams —
Go, build you strong and stony citadels,
The homes where ermined ease securely dwells
And civic virtue finds its plumy bed;
I know, I know: and if I shake my head,
I only hear the jingle of the bells.

Along the streets the shades of evening fall —
Where many a busy burgher buys and sells:
Aloft, alone, unnoted, all a-fire,
Flames to itself the silly soaring spire,
And slowly swings its curfew over all —
What is it? Just the city's cap and bells!