Originally uploaded by prerona.
Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd,
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd —
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak?
will probably change this picture; but which wud i chose to say how beautiful
she is? maybe gentle people, with flowers in their hair. still water, pushing up the sun as it rises? long empty streets? time that has lived there so very long, history frozen, beauty so hidden, so obscure, so abstruse ... awww damn. come, december!
Originally Posted at Prerona.