Ode on a Grecian Urn
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THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness,
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
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Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
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A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
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What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape 5
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Of deities or mortals, or of both,
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In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
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What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
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What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
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What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? 10
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
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Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
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Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
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Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
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Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15
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Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
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Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
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Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
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She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
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For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20
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Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
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Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
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And, happy melodist, unweari&egrave;d,
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For ever piping songs for ever new;
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More happy love! more happy, happy love! 25
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For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
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For ever panting, and for ever young;
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All breathing human passion far above,
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That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
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A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 30
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Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
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To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
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Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
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And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
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What little town by river or sea-shore, 35
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Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
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Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
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And, little town, thy streets for evermore
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Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
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Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. 40
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O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
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Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
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With forest branches and the trodden weed;
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Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
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As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 45
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When old age shall this generation waste,
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Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
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Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
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'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
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Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'
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