Monday, October 26, 2009

Breath of Autumn's Being





From Ode to the West Wind, by Percy Bysshe Shelley



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 wing├Ęd 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, O hear!




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?





1 comment:

Western North Carolina Writer's Underground said...

Zoom Zoom

A magic carpet of colors;
Flying up the highest ridges.
Swooping down the mountain sides;
Engulfing the valleys in lakes of light.

Zoom zoom across the rivers;
Way up high in the air.
Reflecting the reds, oranges, greens, and gold’s;
Splashes of rainbow colors slide down the streams.

Autumn is the season of change;
Wet and chilly, crisp and clean.
Trees shimmer in the afternoon light.
A smorgasbord of colors everywhere.

Nature performs a shiveree—
raucous celebration of the transition of life.
Puts on Her wanton best; dares you to condemn Her.
Picks up Her skirts, smiles and flies away!


Chuck Connors, October 17, 2009