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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460168" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode on a Wedgwood Urn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It’s a gentle green in colour, <br>sits on the shelf, still, contained, <br>containing, and content; <br>around it, another world<br>is playing out its immortal role, <br>in constant movement which<br>somehow conveys to us, stillness, <br>peace; there’s order in that world; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and yes, John, you could well call it, <br>unravish’d quietness: (you said, once, <br>in your romantic way, that<br>you were certain of nothing<br>but the holiness of the heart's affections, <br>and the truth of imagination; <br>here's the urn to prove it..) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">erect yet relaxed in pose, <br>hair in a chignon, one hand<br>touching her neck, the other<br>holding a rolled scroll, resting<br>on what could be a reading desk; <br>she’s elegant, attentive, sensing, observant, <br>yet full of sweetest silent thought; <br>she’s said to be Euterpe, <br>goddess of lyric poetry; <br>I should respect her, even beg.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another graceful figure, also<br>lightly draped, so that her body<br>is an open yet modest secret, <br>plays the lyre to some timeless tune of truth; <br>another leans upon a rough stone column, <br>absorbed in what another with up-pointing hand<br>is telling of what reigns above; <br>beautiful truth; truthful beauty..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a second lyre rests, unattended yet significant, <br>upon the ground; as if music’s secret musing<br>remains always there, even when unplayed; <br>sweeter when heard to be unheard..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">three dance together; their lightness, <br>grace, and ease are simultaneously<br>celebration and surrender; their breeze-played draperies<br>tell us how ethereal our holy bodies are, <br>caught in the breeze of time; <br>there’s more to them than meets the eye; <br>but that’s what eyes are for, <br>they say to us: to see, to know, they’re there..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">trees throw out leaves, as if<br>they hear the music, dance the dance, <br>know that upwards is what they grow towards..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there’s an elegant brazier burning there; the scene<br>is evidently not complete without<br>the significance of the sacrificial fire; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">gentle green upon the shelf, <br>contained, containing, and content, <br>it plays out its destiny of gods and goddesses, <br>muses, graces; unconcerned<br>whether I should wish to look at it, <br>admire it, perhaps ask questions of it; <br>even, live a little of its life…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460168" data-title="Ode on a Wedgwood Urn de Michael Shepherd" data-description="It’s a gentle green in colour, 
sits on the shelf, still, contained, 
containing, and content; 
around it, another world
is playing out its immortal role, 
in constant movement which
somehow conveys to us, stillness, 
peace; there’s order in t..."></div>
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