i discovered poetry in the seventh grade

December 29, 2007



John Keats.  Ode on a Grecian Urn.

The procession of a new year — when time can feel to me like it’s standing still for a moment or two — inevitably makes me love the poem all over again.

… 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,
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair …


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