"
That is one of Shelley's happiest poems. For most of his poems
have at least a tone of sadness, even the joyous song of the
skylark leaves us with a sigh on our lips, "our sincerest
laughter with some pain is fraught." But The Cloud is full only
of joy and movement, and of the laughter of innocent mischief.
It is as if we saw the boy Shelley again.
We find his sadness, too, in his Ode to the West Wind, but it
ends on a note of hope. Here are the last verses--
"Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
"Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
"Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth;
And by the incantation of this verse,
"Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
"The trumpet of a prophecy! O wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"
Shelley sang of Love as well as of the beauty of all things.
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