I.
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 odors plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
II.
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: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine aery 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 vapors, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!
III.
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lulled 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 gray with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!
IV.
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 skiey speed
Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, 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.
V.
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?
Notes
Poem form:- sonnet repeated five times. Meter:- Iambic pentameter. Rhyme:- Terza Rima.
'This poem was conceived and chiefly written in a wood that skirts the Arno, near Florence, and on a day when that tempestuous wind, whose temperature is at once mild and animating, was collecting the vapours which pour down the autumnal rains. They began, as I foresaw, at sunset with a violent tempest of hail and rain, attended by that magnificent thunder and lightning peculiar to the Cisalpine regions.
The phenomenon alluded to at the conclusion of the third stanza is well known to naturalists. The vegetation at the bottom of the sea, of rivers, and of lakes, sympathizes with that of the land in the change of seasons, and is consequently influenced by the winds which announce it.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.])'
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the Ode in song
From guest John Webster (contact)
For a soft rock song setting of selected lyrics from the Ode to the West Wind you can check out 'The Shelley Story' by John Webster with Brindaband at www.pathfinderaudio.co.uk -
To:SHELLEY
From guest PsYchOMarYJane (contact)
Monday 6th November 2006
November's Frosty-tongue of icy-breath
Autumnal Rain Lashes against the Dust-of-Late-Summer's Window Pane,
Driving-Out The Sweet-Decay and Scent of Death!
Chill-Wind doth Blow down Leaf-Strewn Streets,
Sodden Underfoot the Fire-Burnt Lights,
Of Glowing-Lamps.See SHELLEY! Stomp! and Snarl!
And Spit! at Vermin Crawling out the Open Sewer!
Away with You! he Spears a rat! with the Sharp-end of his Stick! and Tosses it into the Thames!
For SHELLEY is Strolling,early of the Morning
In London.Home to Oblivion and Rank,Dank Dens of Alcohol and Opium.His Eyes Ablaze! FIRE! Out of The Haze!Of Lazy Summer Days.He Recollects in Calm
With Eloquence and Poise.and Dismisses the Cold,callous cackle of Worthless Women Hag-Whores!
Whose Greed and Superficiality hath no End of Hideous Noise! As they Swarm in Undesirable-Parts,
of The CITY.Dead-Vacuous-Glazed-Eyes.Like Dirty Horrid Flies.he Swats them-Away! SHOO! and Decease! And then Continues on His Gentlemanly-way.At Ease.
LURRV from..PsYChOMarYJane!(SHELLEY's LOVER!) -
I noticed a lot of comments on the structure of this poem. The rhyme scheme here, although clever, is not unusual. If you look at the poem closely, you'll notice that the apparent "Terza Rima layout" conceals the fact that this poem is actualy five sonnets.
I like how Shelley seems to be breaking appart the sonnet tradition by essentialy "scattering" and "blowing" the older verse form away. -
Wow, the diction within this poem is beautiful and the imagery is very powerful, the form is perfect and the poem greatly written.
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skakes the head in rhythm of the poem then realises its time to comment
I like the beat and the rhyme scheme in this one. It just got me involved in it bad. The imagery was great. There is some magic in the words, they sound so great.
~~ Seraph -
As I said I have read it many times beofre, though not at oldpoetry, but I was tempted to read it again here. IT blew me away againa sit always does. The imagery and the descriptiveness is simply amazing. As is the rhyming structure.
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Sweet though in madness. Typical Shelley play on words. He makes negative words appear oh so appealing
Again the last line
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
underlining the inherent optimism whoch mark most of his poetry
Edited on Mar 12, 5:01 p.m. because ''. -
I have to agree with Artemisia, it IS rather stuffy...or maybe just...too long. I had a hard time reading it the first time, and I just came back to read it again, and couldn't make myself do it.
I like the language and the flow of it, it sounds nice, but way too long. Just my opinion.
~Tawnya~ -
i'll call it stuffy. maybe it's just the mood i'm in. it flows really well, images are nice, but it doesn't quite reach me.
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Stuffy? Who durst?
This one is much more comfortable and homey to me. As is anything by Shelley, really. (sigh) -
The "poetic diction" is pretty here, even though some call it stuffy. "Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air..." That line reminds me of "Rough winds to shake the darling buds of May" from Shakespeare.
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I read this poem for our assignment and I really must say that this was awesome. It gave me the chills just reading it. I can't wait to read the next one. I just hope that i can learn to write like this because it is beautiful. Maryann22
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wow, this is amazing...I love all the descriptiveness used in this...it actually kept my attention through the whole thing
Just gotta pick out one of my fave lines It just stood out to me
"The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean"
I just love how that sounds! such a picture it paints...k...I better get to finishing the rest of the homework
~~T~~ -
yaaaay! i finally found a poem written in terza rhima...wow...this sounds really hard...am i really up for taking this class...o no
im gonna fail aren't i? o well i'll just try my best...wow this does look really hard...especially to write an actually really good poem...and this is what shelley did!!! yay! awesome write!
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Somebody was trying to teach me to write in Terza Rima... this is my example. I remember reading it far ago and thinking the rhyme scheme was really cool, and I am usually not interested in form because it's restrictive, blah, blah, blah, but I think that writing within a form is challenging and a lot of times the poem that comes out of it in the end is better because of the shaping it has to undergo. There's certainly a time & place for stream-of-consciousness, but forms are kinda nifty, as well.
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