Classic Poem

The Muses still shall save us! " Beauty is Truth,
Truth Beauty. " In the immortal lore of Song
What five words loom more beautiful or true?
Where is that proud and fortunate Grecian urn,
That marble bowl fortuitously found
But dedicated to Eternity? —
Drowned in the sea of Time, like Lycidas,
But, like him, living in the poet's dream,
And shaming those who think that Death is all.
Ah, you who seek beneath their shroud of sand
The sepulchre and speech of cities dead,
What quest it were to find that storied vase! —
More precious than the jeweled crown that starred
The night of Sheba's hair, or rainbowed glass
That held the tears that Cleopatra wept
When Antony's loss made desert in her heart;
Or golden sceptre that the King held out
When Esther saved her people. Baubles these
For thrice-locked cases, to be wondered at;
But that one treasure, by a poet's eye
Chosen for greatness from an age of Art
To be the bride of his imagination! —
Would it were in these walls, here, in this land
Where Keats is loved, a lamp to hold a flame
From the pure Empyrean that would kindle
New poets' hearts, inspiring the inspirers.
Then these proud portals would be still more proud
To herald, for the wonder of the world,
A Greek museum of a single urn!