DLTK's Poems
Ode on a Grecian Urn
by John Keats
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A
flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunt about thy shape
Of
deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods
are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to
escape?
What pipes and
timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are
sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear,
but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair
youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the
goal - yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;
And, happy melodist,
unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion
far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and
cloy'd,
A burning
forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the
sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious
priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
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.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with
brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou,
silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold
Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation
waste,
Thou shalt remain,
in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man,
to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
