In the last line of Stanza 2, Keats tells us that the young maiden, though never united with her lover in real life, will remain
forever "
Ode on a Grecian UrnThou still unravished brideof quietness,Thou foster child of silence and slow time,Sylvanhistorian, who canst thus expressA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaffringedlegend haunts about thy shapeOf deities or mortals, or of both,In Tempeor the dales of Arcady?What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?What pipes andtimbrels?What wild ecstasy?Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheardAre sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.Fair youth, beneaththe trees, thou canst not leave15Thy 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!Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shedYour leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;And, happy melodist, unwearied,Forever piping songs forever new;More happy love! morehappy, happy love!Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,Forever panting, and forever young;All breathing human passion far above,That leaves a heart highsorrowful and cloyed,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 dressed?What little town byriver or sea shore,Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?And, little town, thy streets for evermoreWill silent be; and not a soul to tellWhy thou art desolate, can e'er return.O Attic shape!Fair attitude! with bredeOf marble men and maidensoverwrought,With forest branches and the trodden weed;Thou silent form, dost tease us out of thoughtAs dotheternity. Cold PastoralWhen old age shall this generation waste,Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woeThan ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,"--that is allYeknow on earth, and all ye need to know
