Classic Poem

Grey city by the silver Meuse, I fling
One precious day to thee of my brief days;
Take it, and give remembrance: Mellow praise
Of chimes across a moonlit evening,
Rain of light echoes; the full, wavy swing
Of burdened barges down thy waterways.
Noise nearest music; the blue, holy haze
And perfume of old altars; wing on wing
Of iridescent doves descending soft
Within a Gothic gate where one strews bread
For alms to the air's beggars; beyond her,
Arcades recessive, pinnacles aloft,
November's vista deepening to one blur
Of blue-and-grey behind her upturned head.