I am acquainted, is so simple in its structure and 

 yet so aesthetically potent purely in the plastic 

 properties of its form. 



It has long been held by certain critics that the 

 Grecian urn contains in its outlines all the ele- 

 ments essential to a perfect production in art. It is 

 said to have rhythm (whatever this may mean), 

 harmony, and tone. In fact we are to infer from 

 these violent proponents of classic art, who, by the 

 way, seem unable to express themselves about a 

 form of art which they do not seem to understand, 

 in terms only of another form of art (music) which 

 they probably understand still less, that this "sym- 

 phony in stone" actually is the most beautiful ob- 

 ject in the world. Now I am not the one to belittle 

 the loveliness of this overrated jug: its cold, 

 simple beauty cannot be denied; but assuredly it 

 is a beauty which, being cold, can never make me 

 swoon at sight. And if I, like the critics of the 

 classic, could not make my meaning otherwise 

 clear, I should say that it is "frozen music." 



There are some, of course, who profess to find in 

 every piece of bric-a-brac labeled by age or patina, 

 a beauty which is the source of everlasting joy; 

 but to such God-given capacity, I can make no 



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