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Ode On A Grecian Urn
Ode On A Grecian Urn
Ode On A Grecian Urn
By John Keats
Thou still unravished bride of quietness, O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Thou foster child of silence and slow time, Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express With forest branches and the trodden weed;
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral!
Of deities or mortals, or of both, When old age shall this generation waste,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
What men or gods are these? What maidens loath? Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? "Beauty is truth, truth beauty"---that is all
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Scribe: Write down your group’s summary.
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; Translators: Translate poem to modern English.
And, happy melodist, unweari-ed, Use dictionary for any words you do not know.
Forever piping songs forever new; Presenter: Present your summary to the class.
More happy love! more happy, happy love! Moderators: Ensure your group is on task and
Forever warm and still to be enjoyed, keeping a reasonable volume level.
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.