Romantics are so deep... Or are they?

When I first scanned Keats’ “Ode to a Grecian Urn”, my thought was “This is absolutely ridiculous. It's an urn, a piece of pottery. I don't care what it looks like, it's manufactured by a human, therefore it can't be beautiful."

Then I began to really look at the poem. I read it and read it and read it again. That's when I realized something:

I was right.

In the second stanza we see the line:

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss

Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

We see here that Keats' tells the male lover to be happy, for though he cannot physically consummate his love for her (by kissing her, not what you were thinking) her beauty will be there forever. So we know that by beauty, Keats means her physical attractiveness. While we initially look at the poem and think that it's a deep, insightful parallel to truth, we see that the poet himself defines physical attractiveness as beauty. We are constantly told, (and I am one of the few males I know that can actually say this wholeheartedly) true beauty is found on the inside. 1 Peter 3:3-4 says: "Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious."

Let's look at the third stanza:

More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Keats has obviously shared in the mutual experience of true love, agape love, which does not leave the lover regretting, no matter what the other half does. We've all been disappointed in our parents, but can anyone one of us actually say that we regret ever loving our parents?

In stanza number four, Keats addresses death. We see that the inhabitants of a town are all gone to sacrifice a heifer, leaving the streets deserted forever. This parallels to the spirit leaving the body upon death, leaving a soulless shell behind. wheres the true focus of this stanza? Not the townspeople, but the body, the physical manifestation of a human being.

The last stanza can be summed up by the quote at the end : "Beauty is truth, truth beauty" I've already shown how the author views beauty. you make your own argument why this isn't true here.

*stares at the pile of wreckage that was once "Ode on a Grecian Urn". laughs maniacally*

~Cody Martin

PS-Commented on Kaylie's "Nothing Gold Can Stay and 0.0"