As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven

 Here, the author wonders if the west wind is getting stronger or if he has gotten weaker. He is confused whether the feeling of freedom increases or that he is getting mentally weaker. He reminisces about his childhood when he has endless possibilities and is completely free. He felt he could feel more free than the west wind. He claims his boyhood seemed so long ago and that he remembers it vaguely. The author is plainly juxtaposing the power of the wind with his own fragility as he has aged. He imagines if he could take back his childhood freedom, he would not be praying to the west wind in his low points of life. All he ever desired was to be free of all the pain he had to endure while living in reality.

-Faye Alice

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ode to the West Wind

  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 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 t...
Read more

And tremble and despoil themselves

 Section III As the Atlantic ocean turns its smooth surface into chasms or clefts left by the wind - or as if the ocean is trying to move away from the west winds path that it indents inward like a chasm -  far below, the sea flowers and see weed, in their own colorful little world,  hear the voice of the west wind and suddenly grow with fear and lose their color. They are starting to lose their life. T hey start filling with fear and end up dying off just like the fall kills the leaves on the tress. When fall comes, the leaves of trees turn brown, red, gray, and lose their bright green color. They lose their life essence and fall off the trees.  - Tito Rosas
Read more