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