I climbed the stair in Antwerp church, <br />What time the circling thews of sound <br />At sunset seem to heave it round. <br />Far up, the carillon did search <br />The wind, and the birds came to perch <br />Far under, where the gables wound. <br />In Antwerp harbour on the Scheldt <br />I stood along, a certain space <br />Of night. The mist was near my face; <br />Deep on, the flow was heard and felt. <br />The carillon kept pause, and dwelt <br />In music through the silent place. <br />John Memmeling and John van Eyck <br />Hold state at Bruges. In sore shame <br />I scanned the works that keep their name. <br />The carillon, which then did strike <br />Mine ears, was heard of theirs alike: <br />It set me closer unto them. <br />I climbed at Bruges all the flight <br />The belfry has of ancient stone. <br />For leagues I saw the east wind blown; <br />The earth was grey, the sky was white. <br />I stood so near upon the height <br />That my flesh felt the carillon.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/antwerp-and-bruges/
