Ode: Ode on a Grecian Urn

Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats

(I)

Thou still unravished 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-fringed 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?

(II)

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

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

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

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,

Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

(III)

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

Forever piping songs forever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,

Forever panting, and forever young;

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

(IV)

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 dressed?

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.

(V)

O Attic shape! Fair attidude! 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."

Summary of "Ode on a Grecian Urn"

In the first stanza, the poet sees a Grecian urn which has not been affected by the onslaught of time and has been lying silently on the lap of time. The urn gives the record of a past age more graphically than poetry. Its borders are encircled with garlands of leaves. The poet asks whether the figures depicted on the urn are of gods or men or both, whether they are from Tempe or Arcadia, who the maidens trying to escape the pursuit of mad lovers and the musicians playing on pipes and timbrels are.

In the second stanza, the music that is listened to by the spirit is sweeter than the music heard by physical or “sensual” ears. The youth represented on the urn as playing on the pipe will always go on playing under the tree which will never shed their leaves. And the lover who is hotly pursuing the girl will never succeed in catching and kissing her. But he need not be sad, because he will never cease to love her and his beloved will always be lovely.

In the third stanza, the trees sculptured on the urn will ever remain in their spring freshness and the musician will always continue to pipe new songs without being tired. The warmth of the young man’s love will never cool down.

In the fourth stanza, the poet sees a sacrificial procession depicted on the um. There is a crowd of people; a priest is leading á heifer decorated with garlands to the sacrificial altar. The crowd might have come out of some town situated by a river, or on the seashore or on a mountain. The town must have been empty at the time, and it must ever remain empty.

In the fifth stanza, the urn is a genuine specimen of Greek art sculpturing a number of men and maidens, branches and weeds. It seduces us from the ordinary life of thought into the extraordinary life of the imagination. It will continue to exist, even when the present generation will die out, and in the midst of sufferings as yet unknown to us, it will teach us the lesson that beauty and truth are identical the only lesson we ought to know.