Welcome back to the daily poem here in the Closeries Podcast Network. I'm David Kern.

Today's poem is as yesterday's was, and the next three days shall be by Percy Shelley. He was

one of the major English romantic poets, as I mentioned yesterday, and he lived, well, he lived not very long. He lived

from 1792 to 1822, dying in what is now Italy at the age of 29. As I mentioned yesterday,

I'm going to be reading one part of his famous poem, Ode to the West Wind, each day this

week. Each part is a stanza length section of 14 lines,

three, four line, four, three line stanzas rather, and then a couple it at the end.

Yesterday I read part one and with a few comments on the ode. So if you'd like to

get some of that context, you can listen to yesterday's episode if you have not done so.

But here's part two to Percy Shelley's ode to the West Wind.

Thou on whose stream, mid the steep skies 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 airy surge,

like the bright hair uplifted from the head of some fierce mynad,

even from the dim verge of the horizon to the zenith height,

the locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge of the horizon to the zenith 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 vapors, from whose solid atmosphere black rain and fire and hail will burst.

Oh, here.

So you're probably starting to notice a trend.

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