but I got married at the chapel in Old Campus at Yale. Right across the village green and through Phelps Gate -- very picturesque. And right down the road from you guys.
But Hartford is an old city. There must be lots of nice old venues and neighborhoods if you look around. You have to find the poetry in Hartford, possibly by invoking Wallace Stevens's
places or his words:
What is this purple, this parasol,
This stage-light of the Opera?
It is like a region full of intonings.
It is Hartford seen in a purple light.
A moment ago, light masculine,
Working, with big hands, on the town,
Arranged its heroic attitudes.
But now as an amour of women
Purple sets purple round. Look, Master,
See the river, the railroad, the cathedral ...
When male light fell on the naked back
Of the town, the river, the railroad were clear.