Whiter than snow and as smooth as monumental alabaster… Now I know that the poet was not exaggerating things. Here in Europe, we see such dames who walk in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies or crisscross the roads on he their cycles. Some of them are friendly with “opposite sex” having opposite colors!
So far I have had a glimpse of Europe, a taste of its cultures, its beauty… all based on my visit to a couple of countries. But, on seeing the rural sides of these countries, I do get an impression that it was not for nothing the poets of yore were never tired of writing about those enchanting hills, meadows and brooks and the songs of those birds.
All those high rise buildings and fast life disappear from my mind when it goes back in time to see a Wordsworth or a Keats or a Shelly, sowing the seeds of those immortal lines!
Yeah, The world is too much with us; late and soon
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
Suddenly, I wake up to the announcement,
“The next station is”