O silent urn, old and calm,
You stand beyond our noisy days,
A witness carved in marble light,
Holding stories no tongue can fully tell,
In Ode on a Grecian Urn we see your soul,
And feel time breathing through your stillness.
You are the unravish’d bride of quietness,
The foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
A Sylvan historian of leaf-fringed legend,
Whispering of gods and mortals in Arcady.
What mad pursuit runs across your side?
What maidens loth try to escape?
What pipes and timbrels fill wild ecstasy?
Their joy forever caught in shining stone.
Heard melodies are sweet, we know,
But those unheard are sweeter still,
Soft pipes play not to the ear,
But deep inside the restless spirit.
Fair youth beneath the trees,
You can never leave your song,
The spring will never say goodbye,
Your green world will not grow old.
Bold Lover reaching for her kiss,
You pause before the final touch,
Yet do not grieve your endless wait,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair.
Ah, happy, happy boughs above,
That cannot shed their tender leaves,
Your beauty does not fade with seasons,
You do not fear the hand of age.
More happy love, forever warm,
Forever young and softly burning,
Free from sorrow’s heavy breath,
Free from the parching tongue of pain.
Who are these coming to sacrifice?
To what green altar do they walk?
What little town stands empty now,
Its streets silent by river or sea-shore?
No soul returns to tell the tale,
The citadel rests in quiet mystery,
A moment held, never undone,
A frozen prayer in marble form.
O Attic shape, Cold Pastoral,
You tease us out of simple thought,
You stand when generations fall,
Calm while our fragile lives fade away.
In Ode on a Grecian Urn we learn,
That beauty does not beg for time,
It lives where truth and silence meet,
Beyond our burning, fleeting hearts.
“Ode on a Grecian Urn” sings again,
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,
That is all we truly know,
And all the aching heart must hold.
Read More: https://truehymns.com/lady-lazarus/
“Ode on a Grecian Urn” Summary
“Ode on a Grecian Urn” is a famous poem by John Keats. In this poem, the speaker looks at an ancient Greek urn and reflects on the scenes painted on it. He sees lovers, musicians, trees, and people preparing for a sacrifice. These moments are frozen in time, and nothing on the urn can change or fade.
The poet explains that unheard music is sweeter because it lives in the imagination. The young lover will never kiss his beloved, but their love will remain forever young and beautiful. The trees will never lose their leaves, and the town shown on the urn will remain silent forever. In the end, the urn teaches that art is eternal, and its message is clear: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.”
