CARILI ON, In the ancient town of Bruges, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges. When the wrangling bells had ended, On the earth and in the air, But amid my broken slumbers Mingled with the fortune-telling Gipsy-bands of dreams and fancies, Of the silent land of trancez 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, Scattered downward, though in vain, On the roofs and stones of cities! Under its curtains cannot hear, And by day men go their ways, Yet perchance a sleepless wight, Of daylight and its toil and strife, Till he hears, or dreams he hears, Thoughts that he has cherished long; And wakes, and finds his slumberous eyes |