From ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’

What little town by river or sea shore,

          Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

                Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

           Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

                Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

— John Keats, ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, lines 35-40