Ode to the West Wind
From The Art and Popular Culture Encyclopedia
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"Ode to the West Wind" is an ode, written by Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1819.
I 1O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 2Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 3Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 4Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 5Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, 6Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 7The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, 8Each like a corpse within its grave, until 9Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 10Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 11(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 12With living hues and odours plain and hill: 13Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; 14Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear! II 15Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion, 16Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, 17Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, 18Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread 19On the blue surface of thine aëry surge, 20Like the bright hair uplifted from the head 21Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge 22Of the horizon to the zenith's height, 23The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge 24Of the dying year, to which this closing night 25Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, 26Vaulted with all thy congregated might 27Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere 28Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear! III 29Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams 30The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, 31Lull'd by the coil of his crystàlline streams, 32Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, 33And saw in sleep old palaces and towers 34Quivering within the wave's intenser day, 35All overgrown with azure moss and flowers 36So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou 37For whose path the Atlantic's level powers 38Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below 39The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear 40The sapless foliage of the ocean, know 41Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, 42And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear! IV 43If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; 44If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; 45A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share 46The impulse of thy strength, only less free 47Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even 48I were as in my boyhood, and could be 49The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, 50As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed 51Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven 52As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. 53Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! 54I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! 55A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd 56One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. V 57Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: 58What if my leaves are falling like its own! 59The tumult of thy mighty harmonies 60Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, 61Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, 62My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! 63Drive my dead thoughts over the universe 64Like wither'd leaves to quicken a new birth! 65And, by the incantation of this verse, 66Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth 67Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! 68Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth 69The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, 70If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
