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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409367" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Belfry of Bruges, The</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown;<br>Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the<br>town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood,<br>And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of<br>widowhood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors<br>gray,<br>Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape<br>lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and<br>there,<br>Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like,<br>into air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour,<br>But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows wild and<br>high;<br>And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed more distant than the<br>sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then most musical and solemn, bringing back the olden times,<br>With their strange, unearthly changes rang the melancholy chimes,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like the psalms from some old cloister, when the nuns sing in the<br>choir;<br>And the great bell tolled among them, like the chanting of a<br>friar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain;<br>They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the Foresters of Flanders,--mighty Baldwin Bras de Fer,<br>Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy Philip, Guy de Dampierre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days of old;<br>Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece<br>of Gold</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lombard and Venetian merchants with deep-laden argosies;<br>Ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp and ease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I beheld proud Maximilian, kneeling humbly on the ground;<br>I beheld the gentle Mary, hunting with her hawk and hound;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a duke slept with the<br>queen,<br>And the armed guard around them, and the sword unsheathed<br>between.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers bold,<br>Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs of Gold;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saw the light at Minnewater, saw the White Hoods moving west,<br>Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden Dragon's nest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land with terror smote;<br>And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin's throat;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand,<br>&quot;I am Roland! I am Roland! there is victory in the land!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened city's roar<br>Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their graves once<br>more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hours had passed away like minutes; and, before I was aware,<br>Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><div class=q>
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Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the
town.

As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood,
And the world threw off the darkness, like the weed..."></div>
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