Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ⅰ
O wild West Wd, thou breath of Autuns beg,
Thou, fro whose unseen presehe leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts fro aer fleeg,
Yellow, and bck, and pale, aic red,
Pestileri ultitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark try bed
The ged seeds, where they lie ld and low,
Each like a rpse with its grave, until
The azure sister of the Sprg shall blow
Heroer the dreag earth, and fill
（Drivg sweet buds like flocks to feedair）
With livg hues and odours p and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art ovg everywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear!
II
Thou on whose strea, id the steep skys otion,
Loose clouds like earths decayg leaves are shed,
Shook fro the tangled boughs of Heaven and O,
Angels of ra and lightng: there are spread
On the be surface of the aery surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted fro the head
Of so fierce Maenad, even fro the di verge
Of the horizon to the zeniths height,
The locks of the approachg stor, Thou dirge
Of the dyg year, to which this closg night
Will be the do of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy ed ight
Of vapours, fro whose solid atosphere
Bck ra, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!
III
Thou who didst waken fro his sur dreas
The be Mediterranean, where he y,
Lulled by the il of his crystalle streas,
Beside a Puice IsleBaiaes bay,
And sawsleep old paces and towers
Quiverg with the waves tenser day,
All rown with azure oss and flowers