To make my eclogues proper, I must sleep
hard by heaven - like the astrologers -
and being the belfries' neighbor, hear in my dreams
their solemn anthems fading on the wind...
"What became of the Romantic sublime when, instead of inhabiting the countryside as Wordsworth did, poets came to live in the crowded, grimy, and usually insalubrious streets of the new cities that arose following, and as a consequence of, the Industrial Revolution?"
