From Ode on a Grecian Urn

Poets writing about art is a tradition that goes back to the roots of poetry, and John Keats’ ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is one of the more memorable examples in English. Artists working in the field of poetry are rarer but not unheard of. An event at the Scottish Poetry Library on 2 December, (6:30pm, £5/£4), Wrap Around: Emerging Artists Approach the Book Form, is a showcase for books produced by artists. With performances, discussions, this will be an opportunity to discover the book as you may never have seen it before. Thou still unravish’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 ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!