This is a poem that is harder to understand but once you know the meaning it is an amazing poem. Yea lease enjoy
Ode on a Grecian Urn
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BY JOHN KEATS
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
5. A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
9. Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
15. What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
19. Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
25. 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;
31. 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
41. 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
51. 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 59. 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 65. citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
69. And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
75. O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
79. 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
75. generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom
79. thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
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My personal favorite poems/quotes
PoesiaThis is actually not a story. It's a book with my favorite poems/quotes that I feel like should be shared. 🍄NONE OF THESE POEMS OR QUOTES BELONG TO ME (UNLESS I SAY THAT I WROTE THE POEM/QUOTE) SO ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE PEOPLE WHO WROTE THEM🍄
