Recently, we've been studying Romanticism in one of my English classes. I'm a big fan of Romantic poetry . . . I'm a Marianne Dashwood in that sense, you could say.
Take the way nature is described in Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey" or "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," or Keat's "Ode to a Nightingale." It's just beautiful.
I wonder what sort of verses Romantic poets would write if they could see what I saw today:
The perfect stillness of barren trees amidst fields of purest snow,
The majesty of Timpanogos rising in white and silver splendor,
Framed by a sky of rosy peach, tinted with heaven's blue.
If the Romantics had seen the beauties of the Rockies in winter, they would have written masterpieces.
Winter is beautiful.