Ode to the West Wind
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 Winter 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 to feed like flocks in the air]
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear oh hear!
Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822
I spent some time wandering around the town's park last week. It came as rather a surprise to come across a poetry corner tucked away which was put up to celebrate the local year of culture in 2019. Shelley was born in Horsham.