“Ode+on+a+Grecian+Urn”+(John+Keats)


 * John Keats. 1795–1821 ||
 * 625. **Ode on a Grecian Urn** ||
 * 625. **Ode on a Grecian Urn** ||
 * 625. **Ode on a Grecian Urn** ||


 * 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-fringed legend haunts 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, unwearièd, || ||
 * 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 its 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.' || ||
 * 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.' || ||