Ode to the West Wind

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.

Arilx