CARILLON. IN the ancient town of Bruges, Then, with deep sonorous clangor On the earth and in the air, But amid my broken slumbers And I thought how like these chimes Are the poet's airy rhymes, All his rhymes and roundelays, His conceits, and songs, and ditties, Yet perchance a sleepless wight, When the dusk and hush of night Shut out the incessant din Of daylight and its toil and strife, To the poet's melodies, Till he hears, or dreams he hears, CARILLON. Intermingled with the song, Thoughts that he has cherished long; And wakes, and finds his slumberous eyes Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay To the chimes that, through the night, |