The very palms beneath it died,
So harsh it jarred, so loud it lied.
Then the gods told the blue-robed bonze:
"Your Bell is only wrought of bronze.
Lower it down, cast it again,
Or you shall shake the heavens in vain."
Then, as the mighty cauldron hissed,
Men brought the wealth that no man missed.
Yea, they brought silver, they brought gold,
And melted them into the seething mould.