now there are two

I've already sung the praises of the MAC - the Musical Arts Center - where stidh attended an Opera last november. Now I will sing the praises of the Indiana University Art Museum - where I went just now for the second time since moving here. It is great and free - although you have to give up $2 for parking at the Wonderful Union - parking lot. Today I was humbled - at the IU Art Museum - by the Greek Art. Mainly the Urns. And so I am going to take the time to let John Keats speak for me and drone on and on - about the Grecian Urns. He is much better at not being incoherent - than I - am. Oh - and by the way - I've already decided that I'm gonna donate heavily to the MAC AND the IU Art Museum - with the big BUCKs that I don't have. Now I have a feeling that the third place I will not donate heavily to is the Jacob School of Music - here at IU - but first - John Keats' Ode On A Grecian Urn: Thou still unravishe'd bride of quietness,~~Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,~~Sylvan historian, who canst thus express~~A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:~~~What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape~~~Of deities or mortals, or of both,~~~In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?~~~What men or gods are these?What maidens loth?~~~What mad pursuit?~~~What struggle to escape?~~~What pipes and timbrels?What wild ecstasy?~~~~~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 even can those trees be bare;~~~Bold Lover,never,never canst thou kiss,~~~Though winning near the goal-het, do not grieve/~~~She cannot fade,though thou hast not thy bliss,~~~For ever wilt thou love,and she be fair!~~~~~Ah,happy,happy boughs!that cannot shed~~~Your leaves,nor evern bid the Spring adieu;~~~And happy melodist,unwearied,~~~For ever piping songs for even new;~~~More happy,happy love!~~~For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,~~~For ever panting and for ever young;~~~All breathing human passion for above,~~~That leaves a heart high-soworjul and cloy'd,~~~A burning forehead,and a parching tongue.~~~~~Who are these coming to the sacrifice?~~~To what green altar,O mysterious priest,~~~Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,~~~And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?~~~What little town by river or sea-shore.~~~Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,~~~Is emptied of its folk,this pious morn?~~~And,little town,thy streets for evermore~~~Will silent be;and not a soul,to tell~~~To Why thou art desolate,can e'er return.~~~~~(and now for the Really cool last stanza)~~~~~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. I ask your forgivess - and John Keats' also - But I do not have the strength to go through and edit this. My blog is so messed up. But you get the main drift - dontcha? All ye nonreaders and noncommenters~~~:[ Please donate heavily to the ARTS - is all I ask. :)