Explore "Ode to the West Wind" by Percy Bysshe Shelley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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