I think continually of those . . .
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song ...
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit...
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s centre.
Born of the sun they travelled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.

                                        ~Stephen Spender