The topography of literature, the fact in fiction, is one of my pleasures -- I mean, where the living road enters the pages of a book, and you are able to stroll along both the real and imagined road.
Have you visited the Poetry Atlas? They are mapping the world in poetry. I believe you can even submit your own poems of place.
I'm sharing a poem by John Keats from the Poetry Atlas today. Something written in Scottish mountain mists, where Heaven and Hell are hidden from view, and all he can know is what is under his feet:
Written on Top of Ben Nevis
by John Keats
Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in mist!
I look into the chasms, and a shroud
Vapurous doth hide them - just so much I wist
Mankind do know of hell; I look o'erhead,
And there is sullen mist, - even so much
Mankind can tell of heaven; mist is spread
Before the earth, beneath me, - even such,
Even so vague is man's sight of himself!
Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet, -
Thus much I know that, a poor witless elf,
I tread on them, - that all my eye doth meet
Is mist and crag, not only on this height,
But in the world of thought and mental might!
Poetry for Children has the Poetry Friday round-up today.