Books > Old Books > The Golden Treasury (1932)


Page 275

BOOK FOURTH
275 ODE TO THE WEST WIND

(1)
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear!

(2)
Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning: they are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: oh, hear!

(3)
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams,

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!

(4)
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed
Scarce seemed a vision, I would ne'er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Of, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

(5)
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
P. B. SHELLEY.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE (1) O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence what is leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed what is winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of what is Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er what is dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear! (2) Thou on whose stream, mid what is steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from what is tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: they are spread On what is blue surface of thine airy surge, Like what is bright hair where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Golden Treasury (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 275 where is strong BOOK FOURTH where is strong 275 ODE TO what is WEST WIND where is p align="justify" (1) O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence what is leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed what is winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of what is Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er what is dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear! (2) Thou on whose stream, mid what is steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from what is tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: they are spread On what is blue surface of thine airy surge, Like what is bright hair uplifted from what is head Of some fierce Maenad, even from what is dim verge Of what is horizon to what is zenith's height, what is locks of what is approaching storm. Thou dirge Of what is dying year, to which this closing night Will be what is dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: oh, hear! (3) Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams what is blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull'd by what is coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within what is wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, what is sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path what is Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below what is sea-blooms and what is oozy woods which wear what is sapless foliage of what is ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! (4) If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share what is impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be what is comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed Scarce seemed a vision, I would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Of, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon what is thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. (5) Make me thy lyre, even as what is forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! what is tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over what is universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by what is incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth what is trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? P. B. SHELLEY. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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