Truth, beauty, and Keats-- what will (and must) remain
Good morning, loyal blog readers!
I'm sure we all have plenty roiling in our brains besides poems. I'm trying to erect firm boundaries, to box up the disbelief and horror, and much of the time, they hold. That doesn't mean that I'm ignoring things, but my mental and physical health require respite.
One of my favorite poets of all time is Keats. His poems speak to my soul in a way that other poets' work doesn't, and I cannot honestly say why. I love his earnestness, I think, the most. One poem I cannot live without is "Ode on a Grecian Urn." I read it over and over, and have done for years. But yet, I see new things every time I turn the urn with the speaker in the poem. The pathos is almost palpable:
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