This is a very old picture of the Spanish Steps. |
This picture, taken from the top of the Steps, at night, really makes me wish I had actually gone to see the Steps. |
John Keat's
In Drear Nighted December
In drear nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity—
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.
In drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.
Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy—
But were there ever any
Writh'd not of passed joy?
The feel of not to feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
Was never said in rhyme.
I admit that I have never been good at literature analysis, but I don't think that he was as excited about winter time as I am.
(All of the pictures are from Wikimedia Commons, since I never actually got there).
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