Ode to the West Wind - Percy Shelley poem reading | Jordan Harling Reads
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- Опубликовано: 11 мар 2018
- Poetry reading of Ode to the West Wind by Percy Shelley. Classic poem readings uploaded at midday (UK) every day.
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Full poem text, public domain (also available in subtitles):
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 odours 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 aëry 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 vapours, 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,
Lull'd 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 seem'd 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 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 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 wither'd 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 a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Ode to the West Wind - written by Percy Shelley
Narrated by Jordan Harling
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Background music:
musopen.org/music/16388-3-str...
3 String Quartets, Op.7 - Quartet No.1 in E minor - Adagio; agitato non troppo presto - composed by Jacques Féréol Mazas performed by Steve's Bedroom Band (CC BY 3.0)
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Author image:
commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Fi...
Joseph Severn [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
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Poetry is that shakes our heart.
Worthwhile takeaways: I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! ... If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Beautifully read. If winter comes can spring be far behind. I’ve loved that line for nearly 70 years. Thank you.
Thank you. This was beautiful. ❤
Its really wonderful to hear.im a great fan of Shelley
Very beautiful reading.
Beautiful
Fantastic
This reading by far surpasses Gielgud's stilted, palsied spluttering, which sounds anti-germanely, counterinterpretively like an Osricky or Duchess of Gloucester, yet Learean curse, or reaming reprimand of a naughty urchin. But my one salvo is your overslow, even bored calm, uniformly deliberate tempo, whose Keatsean pauses entrance and sign your entrancement and as your elocution purvey the meaning clearly; yet Shelley meant his speaker to emote (at the poem crescendo) as a force majeure wracked hapless pawn, "as a wave, a leaf, a cloud" about to "fall upon the thorns of life" and "bleed," be West Wind rent. So, "bleed" histrionically! But you have a euphonious voice that well purveys the early 19th century young Romantic mystic idealist, if fatalist poet philosopher Shelley and a few of his coterie.
Wot?
The instant declamation of Shelley's "Ode to the ['wild,' not 'mild'] West Wind" surpasses Sir John Gielgud's in not being archly, arthritically stilted, emotionally distant, and is emoted in a voice like Shelley's youthful own. But it errs a new way, in being too "emotion recollected in tranquility" calm, even Oscar Wildean seductive in its tone of detached wit. As the poet Shelley was a passionate young r/evolutionary in poetics and politics, any reciter of this Ode should recite it with the fervor he felt in envisioning and inditing it.
poetry doesn't need background music, surely
Fantastic!!! Your soundtrack is great. Could you share it?
What is the role of wind in the poem “ Ode to the West Wind”? Is West wind a negative or positive force? -justify your answer. What lessons can you learn from this poem? -explain.
Clearly the West Wind is a revitalising force.
💙
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 odours 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 aëry 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 vapours, 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,
Lull'd 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 seem'd 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 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 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 wither'd 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 a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Thank you so much for writing it out. Beautiful poem.
Thank you !
Please sing it musical instrument. Bcoz I am fan of keats and shelley
Me too
Read so well! I'm a Prof in an Indian University, recording some video lectures for PG students, to be uploaded by the uni on the Net. Can I use this please?
the sound is too heavy. enjoyed it
Im here to know what is the mood of this poem becaus its my niece module and ita hard to analize hahah
4:32
1:08 hehe
3:04
0:13
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0:29
0:38
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0:51
2:37
who else is here because they need to do some last minute cramming for english class haha
Nice poem but we cant understand
no summary it's not explaining well
The video is a rhapsodic recitation, not an explication. See other RUclips video analyses.
it clearly says that this is a recitation of the poem.
4:10