---

The Carillon.

(Antwerp and Bruges.)

At Antwerp, there is a low wall

Binding the city, and a moat
Beneath, that the wind keeps afloat.

You pass the gates in a slow drawl
Of wheels. If it is warm at all

The Carillon will give you thought.

I climbed the stair in Antwerp church,

What time the urgent weight of sound
At sunset seems to heave it round.

Far up, the Carillon did search
The wind; and the birds came to perch

Far under, where the gables wound.

In Antwerp harbour on the Scheldt

I stood along, a certain space
Of night. The mist was near my face:

Deep on, the flow was heard and felt.
The Carillon kept pause, and dwelt

In music through the silent place.

At Bruges, when you leave the train,

--A singing numbness in your ears,--
The Carillon's first sound appears

Only the inner moil. Again
A little minute though -- your brain

Takes quiet, and the whole sense hears.

John Memmeling and John Van Eyck

Hold state at Bruges. In sore shame
I scanned the works that keep their name.

The Carillon, which then did strike
Mine ears, was heard of theirs alike:

It set me closer unto them.

I climbed at Bruges all the flight

The Belfry has of ancient stone.
For leagues I saw the east wind blown:

The earth was grey, the sky was white.
I stood so near upon the height

That my flesh felt the Carillon.

October, 1849.

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Last modified 5/22/95