Who are these coming to the sacrifice? In the second and third stanzas, he examines the picture of the piper playing to his lover beneath the trees. You might have heard this line before; it's a pretty famous one, and it basically is Keats outing himself as a Romantic poet. After years of debates and brain-racking that is never-ending, by the way , people have come up with two possible explanations. Line 8-10 What men or gods are these? The beauty in this truth is that we do not have to strive for perfection, then, because it is not possible for mortals. As in other odes, this is only a general rule, true of some stanzas more than others; stanzas such as the fifth do not connect rhyme scheme and thematic structure closely at all. Keats contrasts the urn's peaceful quality, 'quietness' and 'silence and slow time' , with undertones of violence, suggested with 'unravished bride' and 'foster-child'.
It is not a lyric of the escape of a dying young man, unwilling to face bitter life into the realm of everlasting happiness, but is a poem that embodies his mature understanding. The third attempt fails simply because there is nothing more to say--once the speaker confronts the silence and eternal emptiness of the little town, he has reached the limit of static art; on this subject, at least, there is nothing more the urn can tell him. After the publication of his first poem, he received his apothecary's license, but he was now fully invested into his writing career. This ideal at first clashes with the real but is reconciled by imagination and insight at the end. This is one complex poem for sure! Are both lines spoken by the same person, or does some of the quotation express the view of one speaker and the rest of the couplet express the comment upon that view by another speaker? Is art--can art ever be--a substitute for real life? That reminds us of life that is ever ravished by time. He neither supports gross realism against truly imaginative art, nor does he wander in imagination alone. You could write an ode to Chipotle if you love burritos as much as I do.
Line 30: A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. The last two lines are a further reminder of man's mortality and inevitable death. The Fifth Stanza Fifth stanza - we're almost done. The eternity initially suggested by the urn exists only artistically; it does not reflect life, which is not eternal. It will bring them through its pictured beauty a vision of happiness truth of a kind available in eternity, in the hereafter, just as it has brought Keats a vision of happiness by means of sharing its existence empathically and bringing its scenes to emotional life through his imagination. It gives some more examples of that.
O for a beaker full of the warm South! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. He says that the lovers would always share the excitement of the chase, hot and panting because of it considered and allusion for the act of sex and they remain eternally youthful. In the third stanza, he looks at the trees surrounding the lovers and feels happy that they will never shed their leaves. And the urn depicted in the poem is Grecian. In this scene, a young man is sat with a lover, seemingly playing a song on a pipe as they are surrounded by trees.
The poem begins as an ode should, with an apostrophe, the act of speaking to someone not there, or to an object, such as an urn, which means either the urn is speaking, unlikely even in a poem, or the poet is translating a picture on a Grecian urn into an ode. Line 44: Thou, silent form! What men or gods are these? So as generations passed, it stays to tell the present generation what the previous one was like. The lover on the urn can never win a kiss from his beloved, but his beloved can never lose her beauty. Here, the speaker tries to imagine what the experience of the figures on the urn must be like; he tries to identify with them. The Grecian urn, passed down through countless centuries to the time of the speaker's viewing, exists outside of time in the human sense--it does not age, it does not die, and indeed it is alien to all such concepts. The speaker in the poem begins with reality- an ancient marble urn with engravings around it.
The narration of the urn is itself liberated from time. Line 7: In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? As an ode, it also has the unique features that Keats himself established in his great odes. In the stanza, Keats also makes two main comments on his urn. Some critics feel that Keats is saying that Art is superior to Nature. The fact that this repetition occurs at the end of the poem, and not at any other point—at least not in quite the same way—earlier in the ode also underscores that Keats expected the reader to take away a particular message from the poem.
We also see the speaker in the poem attempt to think about the people on the urn as though they were functioning in regular time. Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats: Summary and Analysis Ode on a Grecian Urn is an ode in which the speaker addresses to an engraved urn and expresses his feelings and ideas about the experience of an imagined world of art, in contrast to the reality of life, change and suffering. Here, his curiosity from the first stanza evolves into deeper kind of identification with the young lovers, before thinking of the town and community as a whole in the fourth. Whatever he really means, he's kind of saying that it's better to be captured at that moment where you're just hanging out in the tree, playing your pipes. A man is whispering sweet nothings to a Grecian urn, an ancient Greek pot that is covered in illustrations. After our generation is gone, you will still be here, a friend to man, telling him that beauty is truth and truth is beauty — that is all he knows on earth and all he needs to know.
We're going to start by just talking about the dramatic situation of the poem, which is just a fancy way of saying what's happening in the poem. Here, the speaker tries to imagine what the experience of the figures on the urn must be like; he tries to identify with them. The scenes on the urn are frozen in time, frozen in their perfect form, as only an artist, or a poet, could depict them. He says: All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. What little town by river or sea-shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? The sacrificial victim, a lowing heifer, is held by a priest.