If I had a Grecian urn…. I definitely would be examining its fractured remains

Ode on a Grecian Urn is a detestable piece of romantic subjectivity. Romanticism is the acceptance of the subjective, individual experience as if it were the metaphysical truth underlying all existence. In this sentiment I find the most grotesque of human inclinations. To arrogantly believe that our feelings are tantamount to mathematical proof and qualify as fundamental truth is the most abhorrent of sins. The specific manifestation of this in Ode on a Grecian Urn is found on the last two lines in the last stanza of the poem, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, -that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” What arrogance a hypothetical divine being would have to impart on human beings. Truly, our beings would have to be the exact reincarnations of god in order for us to feel metaphysical truth. How ridiculous such a notion is!
Such romantics would revel in the polarities of emotion. Nazi’s commitment to their cause would be as glorious as a pious man’s spirituality. Despite this seemingly objective accommodation of all such emotions there is an impetus within myself to immediately reject such a reverie. I begin to counter this sentiment with other achievements that have been facilitated by man’s reason, yet a fundamental flaw is discovered in any such attempt. If one begins to speak within the confines of human existence about objective truths then one can never come to accept the equally important achievements of ants, or bulls, or any other entity in the universe. Objectivity is all encompassing. It cannot be limited by the confines of any given function be it man or beast. I doubt even the assertion that we understand what all encompassing may entail. What would have to be incorporated into our opinions about existence in order to strive for truth? All such questions I could not even begin to fathom. Not Mr. Keats though. This individual feels it necessary to utterly glorify a piece of classical art and say in truly Platonic fashion that it represents an ideal.
I am not one for such sentimentality. Yet, I am not willing to immediately accept the cold and logical interpretation of truth that would be expressed by an enlightenment inspired natural philosopher. I am willing to permit the accommodation of our experience into the whole which is objectivity. That is to say, I believe that there is a place for human emotions in truth yet that it is equivalent to a number in infinity. Human emotion cannot occupy more than an ant’s inclination to reproduce and protect its colony. From this, I believe that Ode on a Grecian Urn can be modified to account for “true” objectivity. In instances were, “[the] Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss…” we can also describe how the sparrow will never return to its nest or the sun the horizon. Only the last two lines must be discarded or infinitely many similar statements must be made for me to be satisfied with this poem. Hopefully, I did not sound insensitive in this tirade upon a mere fragment of this poem. I simply believed such a homo-centric view of the world is fundamentally false.