An Excerpt from “Ode on a Grecian Urn”
By John Keats
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.