Ode to the West Wind

Shelley personifies the West Wind, ascribing human qualities to the non-human wind with figurative language. The Wind is like a sorcerer or even a deity. When it arrives, leaves scatter “like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing” (Line 3), fearing its power. When it cleaves the Atlantic Ocean, vegetation far below “tremble and despoil themselves” (28), so stricken that they wet their metaphorical pants. The speaker compares clouds before the storm to the hair “of some fierce Maenad” (Line 21), or a frenzied follower of Bacchus. In this simile, the wind is Bacchus, the Greek god of wine, theater, festivities and merriment, and ritual folly. The West Wind is a vital natural force, tucking autumn seeds away for the winter so that they can grow in the spring.

Shelley adds dimension to his personification of the wind with nuance. The West Wind has the power to destroy, but it also has the power to give life. The speaker addresses the wind as “destroyer and preserver” in Line 14, and the wind demonstrates these powers throughout the poem. The West Wind conjures storms and stirs oceans, but it also protects next spring’s seeds from death in winter. It scatters and cleaves, but it also chariots, lifts, and bears things aloft. It was a “comrade” (Line 49) to the speaker in childhood, and then they drifted apart. The West Wind emerges through these seeming contradictions as a real character. It has good moods and bad, friendships and falling outs, and it is full of conflicting ideas and abilities, just like a person.

Sounds repeating through short sequences of words add texture to “Ode to the West Wind” and punctuate the atmosphere. Shelley prepares the reader to encounter this throughout the poem in the very first line with a series of three words that begin with the letter W: “wild West Wind” (Line 1). The swift, airy sounds of the W’s speak to the wind’s volatile tendencies. Soft L’s in “Lulled by the coil of his crystalline dreams” (Line 31) have a low tone and a tranquil feel, matching the ocean in its peaceful state. Long, low double-O sounds in “Sea-blooms and the oozy woods” (Line 39) evoke the muffled sounds of a storm heard on the ocean floor.

These longer sequences draw attention to the shorter, two-sound pairs that might otherwise go unnoticed: “Though dirge // of the dying year” (Lines 23-24) emphasizes the finality of death with hard, dull D sounds. The Atlantic waters “Cleave themselves into chasms” (Line 38) with high, sharp C sounds, like the sound of something solid breaking into pieces. Popping P’s in “Pant beneath thy power” (Line 59) conjures the breathlessness of panting, either in exhaustion or in awe.