Ode to the West Wind

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,<br> Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead<br> Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,<br> <br> Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,<br> Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,<br> Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed