“All things fall and are built again” refers most directly (but not exclusively) to the beauty of the sculptures of Callimachus, destroyed as many ancient aesthetic wonders were by Imperial plunder and warfare. And yet “those that build [aesthetic wonders] again are gay,” as the act of artistic creation transcends its tragic surroundings and brings comfort to those who are suffering. Here it is the act of artistic creation that is celebrated, despite that it is soon compromised by the sort of imperial megalomania you describe.

When the “chinamen” appear at the poem’s end, there is a clear separation between the two in front, and “The third, doubtless a serving-man.” Indeed, there seems to be a hierarchy at play (“One asks for mournful melodies; / Accomplished fingers begin to play”). However, it is this otherness of the artist (despite its subservience) that is so important. Whatever “tragic scene” these men look out, it is the artist who emerges as the counterbalance to this tragedy, able to bring comfort and gaiety to himself and to others suffering around him. Implicit as well, then, is that the human imagination and creativity celebrated is embodied here, in this poem, as Yeats has created this wonderful poem by merely looking at a stone of lapis lazuli.

To the (albeit sexist) embymatized “hysterical women” who trivialize the importance of the palette, fiddlebow, or Shakespeare in times of great impending tragedy (such as in 1939), Yeats reinforces their crucial worth as vehicles for transcending these circumstances.