Ode On A Gracian Urn- John Keats.
Summary
A man
is whispering sweet nothings to a Grecian urn, an ancient Greek pot that is
covered in illustrations. He thinks the pot is married to a guy name
"Quietness," but they haven’t had sex yet, so the marriage isn’t
official. He also thinks that the urn is the adopted child of
"Silence" and "Slow Time."
Then the speaker gives us the urn’s profession: it’s a
"historian," and it does a much better job of telling stories than
the speaker possibly could. The speaker looks closer at the urn and tries to
figure out what’s going on in the pictures that are painted on it. Illustrated
on the urn is some kind of story that might involve gods, men, or both. It
looks like a bunch of guys are chasing beautiful women through the forest.
People are playing pipes and beating on drums. Everyone looks happy. The scene
is chaotic and the speaker doesn’t know quite what’s happening.
Not only is the urn a better storyteller than the poet, but the
musicians in the illustration have sweeter melodies than the poet. The poet
then tries to listen to the music played by the people in the image. That’s
right: even though he can’t hear the music with his ears, he’s trying to listen
to it with his "spirit." He looks at the illustration of a young guy
who is playing a song under a tree. Because pictures don’t change, the man will
be playing his song as long as the urn survives, and the tree will always be
full and green.
Then the speaker addresses one of the guys who is chasing a
maiden, and he offers some advice: "You’re never going to make out with
that girl, because you’re in a picture, and pictures don’t change, but don’t
worry – at least you’ll always be in love with her, because you’re in a
picture, and pictures don’t change."
The speaker thinks about how happy the trees must be to keep all
their leaves forever. It’s always springtime in the world of the urn, and every
song sounds fresh and new. Then he starts talking about love and repeats the
word "happy" a bunch of times. He is jealous of the lovers on the
urn, because they will always be lusting after each other. Seriously. He thinks
the best part of being in love is trying to get your lover to hook up with you,
and not the part that follows. We’re starting to think that the speaker needs a
cold shower. The word "panting" threatens to send the poem careening
into X-rated territory.
Things were getting a bit steamy, but now the speaker has moved to
a different section of the urn. He’s looking at an illustration of an animal
sacrifice. This is pretty much the cold shower he needed. A priest is leading a
cow to be sacrificed. People have come from a nearby town to watch. The speaker
imagines that it’s a holy day, so the town has been emptied out for the
sacrifice. The town will always be empty, because it’s a picture, and pictures
don’t change.
The speaker starts freaking out a bit. He’s basically yelling at
the urn now. Whereas before he was really excited about the idea of living in
the eternal world of the illustrations, now he’s not so sure. Something about
it seems "cold" to him. He thinks about how, when everyone he knows
is dead, the urn will still be around, telling its story to future generations.
The urn is a teacher and friend to mankind. It repeats the same lesson to every
generation: that truth and beauty are the same thing, and this knowledge is all
we need to make it through life
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