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CARILLON.

In the ancient town of Bruges,

In the quaint old Flemish city,
As the evening shades descended,
Low and loud and sweetly blended,
Low at times and loud at times,
And changing like a poet's rhymes,
Rang the beautiful wild chimes
From the Belfry in the market
Of the ancient town of Bruges.

Then, with deep sonorous cl

Calmly answering their sweet

When the wrangling bells had

Slowly struck the clock eleve And, from out the silent heav Silence on the town descende Silence, silence everywhere, On the earth and in the air, Save that footsteps here and t Of some burgher home returnin By the street lamps faintly bur For a moment woke the echoes

Of the ancient town of Bruges.

But amid my broken slumbers Still I heard those magic numbe As they loud proclaimed the flig And stolen marches of the night Till their chimes in sweet collisi Mingled with each wandering vis

Mingled with the fortune-telling
Gipsy-bands of dreams and fancies,
Which amid the waste expanses

Of the silent land of trances
Have their solitary dwelling.

All else seemed asleep in Bruges,
In the quaint old Flemish city.

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!
For by night the drowsy ear
Under its curtains cannot hear,
And by day men go their ways,
Hearing the music as they pass,

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