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-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
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
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.”
Related poetry:
- The Fairest Apparition If thou never hast gazed upon beauty in moments of sorrow, Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true beauty hast seen. If thou never hast gazed upon gladness in beauteous features, Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true gladness hast seen....
- Sonnet XCII But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end. I see […]...
- Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away But do thy worst to steal thy self away, For term of life thou art assurèd mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end; I […]...
- 495. Song-Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie Chorus-Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Well thou know’st my aching heart, And canst thou leave me thus, for pity? IS this thy plighted, fond regard, Thus cruelly to part, my Katie? Is this thy faithful swain’s reward- An aching, broken heart, my Katie! Canst thou leave […]...
- Sonnet CI O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say ‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d; Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; But […]...
- Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...
- Sonnet IV: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free: Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer, why dost thou use So great a sum of sums, yet […]...
- 14. Song-Mary Morison O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser’s treasure poor: How blythely was I bide the stour, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen, when to the trembling […]...
- Mary Morison O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser’s treasure poor: How blythely wad I bide the stour, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen, when to the trembling […]...
- Sonnet 4: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free. Then, beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse, The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer, why dost thou use So great a sum of sums yet […]...
- The Dance Take the name of the swain, a forlorn witless elf Who was chang’d to a flow’r for admiring himself. A part deem’d essential in each lady’s dress With what maidens cry when they wish to say yes. A lullabye carriage, soft, cozy and light With the name of the Poet who sang on the night. […]...
- Sonnet IV Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free. Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer, why dost thou use So great a sum of sums, yet canst […]...
- Gods 1 THOUGHT of the Infinite-the All! Be thou my God. 2 Lover Divine, and Perfect Comrade! Waiting, content, invisible yet, but certain, Be thou my God. 3 Thou-thou, the Ideal Man! Fair, able, beautiful, content, and loving, Complete in Body, and dilate in Spirit, Be thou my God. 4 O Death-(for Life has served its […]...
- The Glory The glory of the beauty of the morning, – The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew; The blackbird that has found it, and the dove That tempts me on to something sweeter than love; White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay; The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy Of sky and meadow and […]...
- In Maximum WOULDST thou be free? I think it not, indeed; But if thou wouldst, attend this simple rede: When quite contented }thou canst dine at home Thou shall be free when } And drink a small wine of the march of Rome; When thou canst see unmoved thy neighbour’s plate, And wear my threadbare toga in […]...
- Sonnet XLI Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
- Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won; Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
- Upon The Blush Of A Faire Ladie Stay lusty blood! where canst thou seeke So blest a seat as in her cheeke? How dar’st thou from her face retire Whose beauty doth command desire? But if thou wilt not stay, then flowe Downe to her panting pappes belowe: There take thou glory to distayne With azure blewe each swelling veyne, From thence […]...
- I ask of thee, love, nothing but relief I ask of thee, love, nothing but relief. Thou canst not bring the old days back again; For I was happy then, Not knowing heavenly joy, not knowing grief....
- Loch Katrine Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand, Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand! Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen, Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green. Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time, And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime; There’s no […]...
- Lines Inscribed Upon A Cup Formed From A Skull Start not-nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee; I died: let earth my bones resign: Fill up-thou canst not injure me; The worm hath fouler lips than thine. Better to hold the […]...
- The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang’rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes, Faded the shape of beauty from my […]...
- The Well-Beloved I wayed by star and planet shine Towards the dear one’s home At Kingsbere, there to make her mine When the next sun upclomb. I edged the ancient hill and wood Beside the Ikling Way, Nigh where the Pagan temple stood In the world’s earlier day. And as I quick and quicker walked On gravel […]...
- THE TRAVELLER AND THE FARM~MAIDEN HE. CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden, ‘Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder, Where I’d fain one moment cease to wander, Food and drink to one so heavy laden? SHE. Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary, Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes, None but Nature’s plain and homely dishes, […]...
- TO MUSIC, TO BECALM HIS FEVER Charm me asleep, and melt me so With thy delicious numbers; That being ravish’d, hence I go Away in easy slumbers. Ease my sick head, And make my bed, Thou Power that canst sever From me this ill; And quickly still, Though thou not kill My fever. Thou sweetly canst convert the same From a […]...
- Written On The Day That Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison What though, for showing truth to flattered state, Kind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he, In his immortal spirit, been as free As the sky-searching lark, and as elate. Minion of grandeur! think you he did wait? Think you he nought but prison-walls did see, Till, so unwilling, thou unturnedst the key? Ah, […]...
- The Antique To The Northern Wanderer Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean, Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge, That thou might’st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty, Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world. And now before me thou standest, canst touch my altar so […]...
- The Fledgling So, art thou feahered, art thou flown, Thou naked thing?-and canst alone Upon the unsolid summer air Sustain thyself, and prosper there? Shall no more with anxious note Advise thee through the happy day, Thrusting the worm into thy throat, Bearing thine excrement away? Alas, I think I see thee yet, Perched on the windy […]...
- THE DESTRUCTION OF MAGDEBURG [For a fine account of the fearful sack of Magdeburg, By Tilly, in the year 1613, see SCHILLER’s History of the Thirty Years’ War.] OH, Magdeberg the town! Fair maids thy beauty crown, Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown; Oh, Magdeburg the town! Where all so blooming stands, Advance fierce Tilly’s bands; O’er gardens […]...
- Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes That they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by overpartial looks, Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, Why of […]...
- A Thing of Beauty (Endymion) A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its lovliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, […]...
- Sonnet CXXXVII Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold, and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks Be anchor’d in the bay where all men ride, Why of […]...
- A prayer to the Wind Go thou gentle whispering wind, Bear this sigh; and if thou find Where my cruel fair doth rest, Cast it in her snowy breast, So, enflam’d by my desire, It may set her heart a-fire. Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain, Will reward thee for thy pain: Boldly light upon her lip, There suck odours, […]...
- Sonnet LXIII: Truce, Gentle Love Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave; Methinks ’tis long since first these wars begun; Nor thou nor I the better yet can have; Bad is the match where neither party won. I offer free conditions of fair peace, My heart for hostage that it shall remain; Discharge our forces, here let malice cease, […]...
- Sadness and Joy I pray you, Sadness, leave me soon, In sweet invention thou art poor! Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs While thou art making four. One hour with thee is sweet enough; But when we find the whole day gone And no created thing is left We mourn the evil done. Thou art too slow […]...
- The Dream Dear love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme For reason, much too strong for phantasy: Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it. Thou art so truth that thoughts of thee suffice To make dreams truths, and fables histories. […]...
- The Phoenix and the Turtle Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou, shrieking harbinger, Foul pre-currer of the fiend, Augur of the fever’s end, To this troop come thou not near. From this session interdict Every fowl of tyrant wing, Save the eagle, […]...
- TO THE GRASSHOPPER AFTER ANACREON. [The strong resemblance of this fine poem to Cowley’s Ode bearing the same name, and beginning “Happy insect! What can be,” will be at once seen.] HAPPY art thou, darling insect, Who, upon the trees’ tall branches, By a modest draught inspired, Singing, like a monarch livest! Thou possessest as thy portion All […]...
- Waves I saw a tiny God Sitting Under a bright blue umbrella That had white tassels And forked ribs of gold. Below him His little world Lay open to the sun. The shadow of His hat Lay upon a city. When he stretched forth His hand A lake became a dark tremble. When he kicked up […]...
- To The Spring Welcome, gentle Stripling, Nature’s darling thou! With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome now! Aha! and thou returnest, Heartily we greet thee The loving and the fair one, Merrily we meet thee! Think’st thou of my maiden In thy heart of glee? I love her yet, the maiden And the maiden yet loves […]...