CARILLON. In the ancient town of Bruges, Of the ancient town of Bruges. Then, with deep sonorous clangor Silence on the town descended. Of the ancient town of Bruges. But amid my broken slumbers Mingled with the fortune-telling Of the silent land of trances All else seemed asleep in Bruges, And I thought how like these chimes Are the poet's airy rhymes, All his rhymes and roundelays, His conceits, and songs, and ditties, From the belfry of his brain, But deeming it no more, alas! Yet perchance a sleepless wight, When the dusk and hush of night Of daylight and its toil and strife, May listen with a calm delight Till he hears, or dreams he hears, Intermingled with the song, Thoughts that he has cherished long ; Hears amid the chime and singing And wakes, and finds his slumberous eyes Wet with most delicious tears. |