Keats' Ode to a Grecian Urn comes to mind tonight because it speaks of the eras that have gone by. We as humans have to just wonder what happened in that bygone time. We see the vase (urn), but we can only fantasize as to its real use or what it saw in the human activity that surrounded it. So we ascribe to it only its beautiful attributes and highest uses and best possible human activity surrounding it. The last stanza represents the idea.
O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou 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.'
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou 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.'
But even in our own time, we should probably adopt the philosophy of the last two lines. When our daily human activity is boiled away from the daily toil, what should our memory be of our environment—beauty, truth. Fortunately, I get to boil my day away at night when I am by myself or engaged on the computer, and I find the layer at the bottom is beautiful and truth-filled. That equals joy to me. Moments filled with joy. It's all I need to know.
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