Excerpts from "Ode On A Grecian Urn," a poem by John Keats

II

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,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

III

Ah, happy, happy bough! that cannot shed

Your leaves, not ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy meloldist, unwearied,

Forever piping songs forever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

Forever warm and still to be enjoy'd,

Forever panting, and forever young; 

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

V

...When old age shall this generation waste,

Though shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,

'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' --that is all 

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

JOHN KEATS

P.S. The photo above was taken while on an adventure, discovering a portion of the Sonoma Creek in Glen Ellen, CA. It is of wild raspberries and mint growing together, among the yellow butterflies and blue dragonflies. Fresh Raspberry Mojitos anyone?