The old houses of Flanders, They watch by the high cathedrals; They overtop the high town-halls; They have eyes, mournful, tolerant and sardonic, for the ways of men In the high, white, tiled gables. The rain and the night have settled down on Flanders; It is all wet darkness; you can see nothing. Then those old eyes, mournful, tolerant and sardonic, Look at great, sudden, red lights, Look upon the shades of the cathedrals; And the golden rods of the illuminated rain, For a second…. And those old eyes, Very old eyes that have watched the ways of men for generations, Close for ever. The high, white shoulders of the gables Slouch together for a consultation, Slant drunkenly over in the lea of the flaming cathedrals. They are no more, the old houses of Flanders. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TIMES GO BY TURNS by ROBERT SOUTHWELL CHARACTERS: SARAH RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD LOVE AND COQUETRY by LEVI BISHOP A SICK-BED by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT VERSICLES by GEORGE GORDON BYRON COURAGE REGAINED by BERTHA TODD CAMPBELL HIS CROWN OF SHAME (ON THE SINKING OF THE 'LUSITANIA') by HENRY CHAPPELL |