Robert Laurence Binyon

Louvain - to Dom Brunt Destrtt, O.S.B.

I
 
IT was the very heart of Peace that thrilled
In the deep minster-bell’s wide-throbbing sound
When over old roofs evening seemed to build
Security this world has never found.
 
Your cloister looked from Caesar’s rampart, high
O’er the fair city: clustered orchard-trees
Married their murmur with the dreaming sky.
It was the house of love and living peace.
 
And there we talked of youth’s delightful years
In Italy, in England. Now, O Friend,
I know not if I speak to living ears
Or if upon you too is come the end.
 
Peace is on Louvain ; dead peace of spilt blood
Upon the mounded ashes where she stood.
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