“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing”. Indeed, forever joyous is that beautiful thing—its fair image upon the Grecian urn so fitly stamped. For beauty knows not death, nor feels the whips and scorns of time. It fears not the slings and shocks to which flesh is heir, nor the pangs of love denied. It cannot fade; it cannot be but young, for “beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”.