Ode on a Grecian Urn

¹Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,

²Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

³Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

⁴A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

⁵What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape

⁶Of deities or mortals, or of both,

⁷In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

⁸What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

⁹What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

¹⁰What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

¹¹Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

¹²Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

¹³Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,

¹⁴Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

¹⁵Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

¹⁶Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

¹⁷Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

¹⁸Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve;

¹⁹She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

²⁰For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

²¹Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

²²Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

²³And, happy melodist, unwearied,

²⁴For ever piping songs for ever new;

²⁵More happy love! more happy, happy love!

²⁶For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,

²⁷For ever panting, and for ever young;

²⁸All breathing human passion far above,

²⁹That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,

³⁰A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

³¹Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

³²To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

³³Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

³⁴And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

³⁵What little town by river or sea shore,

³⁶Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

³⁷Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

³⁸And, little town, thy streets for evermore

³⁹Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

⁴⁰Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

⁴¹O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede

⁴²Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

⁴³With forest branches and the trodden weed;

⁴⁴Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

⁴⁵As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

⁴⁶When old age shall this generation waste,

⁴⁷Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

⁴⁸Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,

⁴⁹"Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — that is all

⁵⁰Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."