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Ode on a Grecian Urn
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
'Ode on a Grecian Urn; is a poem written by the English Romantic poet John Keats in May 1819, and later published anonymously in the January 1820, Number 15 issue of the magazine Annals of the Fine Arts.
This poem is one of several 'Great Odes of 1819', which include 'Ode on Indolence', 'Ode on Melancholy', 'Ode to a Nightingale', and 'Ode to Psyche'. Keats found earlier forms of poetry unsatisfactory for his purpose, and the collection represented a new development of the ode form. He was inspired to then write the poem after reading two articles by English artist and writer Benjamin Haydon.
Keats was aware of other works on classical Greek art, and had first-hand exposure to the Elgin Marbles, all of which reinforced his belief that classical Greek art was idealistic and captured Greek virtues, which forms the basis of the poem.
John Keats (1795–1821) was one of the principal poets of the English Romantic movement. During his short life, his work received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day, but his posthumous influence on poets such as Alfred Tennyson has been immense. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize Keats's poetry, including a series of odes that were his masterpieces and which remain among the most popular poems in English literature.
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
'Ode on a Grecian Urn; is a poem written by the English Romantic poet John Keats in May 1819, and later published anonymously in the January 1820, Number 15 issue of the magazine Annals of the Fine Arts.
This poem is one of several 'Great Odes of 1819', which include 'Ode on Indolence', 'Ode on Melancholy', 'Ode to a Nightingale', and 'Ode to Psyche'. Keats found earlier forms of poetry unsatisfactory for his purpose, and the collection represented a new development of the ode form. He was inspired to then write the poem after reading two articles by English artist and writer Benjamin Haydon.
Keats was aware of other works on classical Greek art, and had first-hand exposure to the Elgin Marbles, all of which reinforced his belief that classical Greek art was idealistic and captured Greek virtues, which forms the basis of the poem.
John Keats (1795–1821) was one of the principal poets of the English Romantic movement. During his short life, his work received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day, but his posthumous influence on poets such as Alfred Tennyson has been immense. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize Keats's poetry, including a series of odes that were his masterpieces and which remain among the most popular poems in English literature.
1 pages, Unknown Binding
First published March 17, 1819
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581 people want to read
About the author
John Keats
1,518 books2,472 followersRich melodic works in classical imagery of British poet John Keats include "
The Eve of Saint Agnes
," "
Ode on a Grecian Urn
," and "
To Autumn
," all in 1819.
Work of the principal of the Romantic movement of England received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day during his short life. He nevertheless posthumously immensely influenced poets, such as Alfred Tennyson. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize poetry, including a series of odes, masterpieces of Keats among the most popular poems in English literature. Most celebrated letters of Keats expound on his aesthetic theory of "negative capability."
of the author
Work of the principal of the Romantic movement of England received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day during his short life. He nevertheless posthumously immensely influenced poets, such as Alfred Tennyson. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize poetry, including a series of odes, masterpieces of Keats among the most popular poems in English literature. Most celebrated letters of Keats expound on his aesthetic theory of "negative capability."
of the author
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews
May 6, 2025
My teacher called my essay about this 'excellent work' and I fear I will never ever shut up about it.
March 15, 2020
Here, the creator speaks of intransience of art and the ephemeral nature of life. Truth and Beauty are considered, as an unremitting thought strung together in a sequence.
The poet is enthused by the Grecian urn, which is a bit of art and has remained unsullied and virgin for aeons. Time festers in its case, while cohorts of men have arrived, suffered desolation, and departed the stage. Above and beyond the exquisiteness of the urn, the poet is profoundly electrified by the bucolic scenes carved on the sides of the urn. There are trees laden with green and fresh leaves.
The young man would prolong singing unwearied, and the musician would persist playing pipes and drums. The youthful men would keep up their efforts in chasing the maidens, who would perpetually keep escaping. The lover will be on the brink of kissing the girl but will fail to satiate his craving. There’s nothing to be sad about it though -- his darling will never age. She will have the benefit of unending youth and timeless allure.
These moments of delight are captured and made eternal by art. Nevertheless, in real life contentment is transitory. Love grows cold, youth and beauty fade away, music grows musty, and all sweet things lose their appeal and men get tired of them.
Love does not remain warm and leaves the heart sorrowful and cloyed.
This leads the poet to surmise that man must know only one thing - Beauty and Truth –which is one and the same. What is beautiful must also be true and what is true must be beautiful.
The last scene, that is, of the sacrifice of the heifer is image-wise, the the icing on the cake in the poem for me, individually. The poet has created an atmosphere of legend about it. The priest is mystifying, and so is the ceremony. We can only imagine about the convictions and institutions of these people. The poet has added realistic touches. The young bull is unsurprisingly crying to the sky. There is a crowd of people and the grass and weeds are crushed under their feet. We can also imagine the town on the bank of a river or at the foot of a hill lying desolate. It is indeed the finest scene.
The poet is enthused by the Grecian urn, which is a bit of art and has remained unsullied and virgin for aeons. Time festers in its case, while cohorts of men have arrived, suffered desolation, and departed the stage. Above and beyond the exquisiteness of the urn, the poet is profoundly electrified by the bucolic scenes carved on the sides of the urn. There are trees laden with green and fresh leaves.
The young man would prolong singing unwearied, and the musician would persist playing pipes and drums. The youthful men would keep up their efforts in chasing the maidens, who would perpetually keep escaping. The lover will be on the brink of kissing the girl but will fail to satiate his craving. There’s nothing to be sad about it though -- his darling will never age. She will have the benefit of unending youth and timeless allure.
These moments of delight are captured and made eternal by art. Nevertheless, in real life contentment is transitory. Love grows cold, youth and beauty fade away, music grows musty, and all sweet things lose their appeal and men get tired of them.
Love does not remain warm and leaves the heart sorrowful and cloyed.
This leads the poet to surmise that man must know only one thing - Beauty and Truth –which is one and the same. What is beautiful must also be true and what is true must be beautiful.
The last scene, that is, of the sacrifice of the heifer is image-wise, the the icing on the cake in the poem for me, individually. The poet has created an atmosphere of legend about it. The priest is mystifying, and so is the ceremony. We can only imagine about the convictions and institutions of these people. The poet has added realistic touches. The young bull is unsurprisingly crying to the sky. There is a crowd of people and the grass and weeds are crushed under their feet. We can also imagine the town on the bank of a river or at the foot of a hill lying desolate. It is indeed the finest scene.
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March 6, 2019Now I'm just counting the poems I'm reading in class under my reading challenge because I'm currently reading like 7 books but 카지노싸이트 says I'm 3 books behind on my goal so I'm just counting that *gasp* that was all one breath.
This poem was... interesting? It's kind of funny, that Keats is waxing poetic about an urn. It's like writing a poem about your true love and finding out that the poem was addressing a sandwich.
Not bad, but I know I'm not fully appreciating it as of yet. We shall see.
This poem was... interesting? It's kind of funny, that Keats is waxing poetic about an urn. It's like writing a poem about your true love and finding out that the poem was addressing a sandwich.
Not bad, but I know I'm not fully appreciating it as of yet. We shall see.
December 29, 2022
It was nice to take a break from the full-length books to read a little poem instead. Keats beautifully captures something of the dynamic between art and humanity in this poem. There are things we will never know about the people who have created ancient art, but still there is some eternally knowable meaning in their art, for "beauty is truth, truth beauty." While generations come and go, the stories remain in the art, and this is woven into the whole story of human nature.
February 17, 2025
Keats is reflecting on the nature of art, time, and beauty, using the Grecian urn as a symbol for the eternal. The urn is both a representation of the ideal (forever beautiful, forever young) and a reminder of the impermanence of life. It's a bit tragic, a bit philosophical, and leaves us with a lasting contemplation about what really matters: beauty that doesn’t fade or die.
TLDR: life might suck, but at least we have beautiful art to keep us company.
TLDR: life might suck, but at least we have beautiful art to keep us company.
May 26, 2021
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
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May 1, 2017This poem, while complicated, is a great way to open up middle school students to understanding more profound themes and imagery in poetry. Secondly, this particular poem employs a variety of figurative language, which could be a good practice exercise for students to analyze and interpret. This would help students understand the structure of how figurative language works into poetry, which could be reflected in a writing exercise where this poem would be the model text. However, the concluding two lines of the poem are most useful for the students to learn more about the concept of perspective in reading and writing. They state: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty -- that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." The students could be tasked with completing a writing exercise that employs the strategy of a RAFT. The way that perspective is incorporated into this assignment is what the student chooses as their "role." For example, they could choose to write from the perspective of 'beauty' or 'truth' as they are defined in the mind of the student. Alternatively, the student could compare and contrast would beauty is defined as for Keats in his time period, and a more modern definition.
December 18, 2022
Charles Swinburne thought of Keat’s earlier work as “some of the most vulgar and fulsome doggrel ever whimpered by a vapid and effeminate rhymester” just for him to do a complete turnaround and later dub it as “accomplishment of the very utmost beauty possible to human words.”
This is funny on so many levels 😂
This is funny on so many levels 😂
February 9, 2015
This poem is one of my favourites from all the poems of Sir John Keats...
I learn so many things out of it..
and I long to see the beauty of the Urn
John Keats is one of my favourite poet n I have fun reading his poems...
He talk of truth and I only believe in things that are true ^_^
I learn so many things out of it..
and I long to see the beauty of the Urn
John Keats is one of my favourite poet n I have fun reading his poems...
He talk of truth and I only believe in things that are true ^_^
March 13, 2018
The testament of a great poet is one who can find the extraordinary in the ordinary and make you feel that extraordinariness in their words and composition. John Keats achieves that in this poem here.
September 11, 2023
I don’t understand 😭
March 12, 2022
1992, asignatura American Literature, tema: figuras poéticas. El amigo Keats es un amo, pero aquí se puso trascendental (aka intenso) y al describir una vasija (las escenas dibujadas en una vasija) griega quiso conectar lo terrenal con lo celestial, con resultados chirriantes. Me quedo con la frase de Beauty is truth, truth beauty que aplica al libro que me estoy leyendo ahora.
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 be fair!
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 thou art desolate, can e'er return.
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."
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 be fair!
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 thou art desolate, can e'er return.
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."
January 29, 2025
Had to log this one specifically because there is quite literally nothing like it. The Romantics were on some real mind altering shit.
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?
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."
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?
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."
December 20, 2019
Ah, yes, one of the obligatory English-major poems. While I do enjoy Keats, about sums up my experience with Ode on a Grecian Urn:
“Truth is beauty! Beauty truth, sir!” – Rommelwood Cadet
“They’re discussing poetry! Oh, we never do that at my school.” – Lisa Simpson
“But the truth can be harsh and disturbing! How can that be considered beautiful?!” – Rommelwood Teacher
...
August 9, 2022
It’s a good poem, but the ending makes less sense the more I think about it. I understand the idea that art trancends time, as well as his idea that imagination is better than reality. So far my best guesses for what beauty is truth means is:
Perception is reality
or
There is no truth or reality indepedent of human’s sensual experiences
I’ve been reading plenty of explanations and analysis and I still haven’t heard it in a way that makes sense.
Perception is reality
or
There is no truth or reality indepedent of human’s sensual experiences
I’ve been reading plenty of explanations and analysis and I still haven’t heard it in a way that makes sense.
May 26, 2024
কবি জন কিটস্ তাঁর বিখ্যাত গীতিকবিতা 'Ode on Grecian Urn ' কবিতায় প্রাচীন গ্রিসের কারুকার্যময় একটি ভস্মাধারের শৈল্পিক দিকটি বর্ণনা করতে গিয়ে বলেন : 'Life is short but art is long '
'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.'
26.05.24
'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.'
26.05.24
July 18, 2017
This poem was written as a response to 'Ozymandias' and it suggests an antidote to the inexorable passing of time: art. I rather agree with this concept. Only that which we do has an effect beyond our lives. The author sees the art of an ancient urn as the only piece to survive the makers of it. I particularly love the last verse, where the author proclaims fearlessly: "All is beauty"! Indeed!
October 15, 2021
Ode on a Grecian Urn, by John Keats
"Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest..."
Prominent figurative language.
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
"Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest..."
Prominent figurative language.
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
May 21, 2022
:,) I’m in tears. Give this man a chance to live. Life’s cruel
“Yet,do not grieve;she cannot fade,though thou hast not thy bliss,forever wilt thou love,and she be fair” give this man the love of his life:,)))
Cold pastoral!!
Beauty is truth,truth is beauty
“Yet,do not grieve;she cannot fade,though thou hast not thy bliss,forever wilt thou love,and she be fair” give this man the love of his life:,)))
Cold pastoral!!
Beauty is truth,truth is beauty
May 16, 2017
This poem does not seem nearly as good to me as Ode to a Nightingale.
February 12, 2019
ME HA ENCANTADO
April 7, 2019
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.
December 10, 2019
Heared melodies are sweet those unheard sweeter
Thou still unravished bride of quietness
Truth is beauty, beauty is truth that is all
Thou still unravished bride of quietness
Truth is beauty, beauty is truth that is all
January 4, 2020
If you want to get a grasp on Art and Zen at the same time, this is a nice start
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January 23, 2020I can't do it, y'all. I just can't like poetry.
April 17, 2020
One of the best odes (probably the best) ever written. It is a must read. It is deeply unfortunate that Keats' life ended prematurely.
April 14, 2021
Surprisingly interesting for some guy musing about a vase.
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May 9, 2021read for: 19th century poetry
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