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Ode On A Grecian Urn

Rating: 3.7

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 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, 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."
COMMENTS
Sasikala Kamandula 04 May 2020
Heard melodies are sweet But unheard melodies are sweeter! !
0 0 Reply
Sasikala Kamandula 07 February 2020
My student presented this poem in paint on a clay urn in the English workshop at nalanda, Vijayawada. That is the greatest trybute and crown to me. I fly worthy of my teaching post. His name is, I remember, Sai, CBSE,2005, probably.
0 0 Reply
Mamunur Rahman Kayes 05 November 2019
I just read these verse and read.Amazing totally amazing
0 0 Reply
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter. A herd of sweeter melodies were to dart from him, but destiny decided otherwise
1 1 Reply
Prabir Gayen 17 December 2018
Timeless fragrance.............
0 1 Reply
Prabir Gayen 17 December 2018
Lovely poem of timeless beauty of art...
0 1 Reply
Alexander Raju 25 October 2018
Philosophy of truth Alexander Raju
0 1 Reply
Jamal 29 July 2018
Heard melodies are sweet ,those unheard Are sweeter .
0 1 Reply
Britte Ninad 30 May 2018
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, .... Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
0 1 Reply
Bailey Robison 23 March 2018
This poem is descent but i can do a way better poem than this. Like 10x better than this.
0 3 Reply
Sucks 20 April 2018
Sucksssssssd
0 0 Reply

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