Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote his celebrated 'Ode to the West Wind' in 1819 in the woods near the Arno river in Florence, Italy. In the day he watched a tempestuous autumnal west wind gathering up the clouds for a storm and as he expected, in the night there was a magnificent thunderstorm. Shelley had left England for Italy in 1818 and until his tragic and untimely death in 1822, at age 30, in a boating accident off the coast of Livorno, in Tuscany, north western Italy, he had been living there in self-imposed exile, moving between various cities.
Here are the last two stanzas of the poem. Let the power of Shelley's thought and lyrical genius lift you up like the west wind lifts up a leaf, a cloud or a wave. Truly, there are few things as uplifting as great poetry.
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 my 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 seem'd 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 chain'd and bow'd
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 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 unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Tailpiece.
Reading poetry has become a passion. I must confess that I'd never delved deep into it during my school days but am now, making up for lost time!
Here are the last two stanzas of the poem. Let the power of Shelley's thought and lyrical genius lift you up like the west wind lifts up a leaf, a cloud or a wave. Truly, there are few things as uplifting as great poetry.
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 my 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 seem'd 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 chain'd and bow'd
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 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 unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Tailpiece.
Reading poetry has become a passion. I must confess that I'd never delved deep into it during my school days but am now, making up for lost time!
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