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.