ONE SHOT SUMMARY IN NUTSHELL: hope it will help you !! 1st stanza: 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 The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear! SUMMARY- You, the unruly west wind, are the essence of the Fall. You are invisible, but you scatter the fallen leaves: they look like ghosts running away from a witch or wizard. The leaves are yellow and black, white and wild red. They look like crowds of sick people. You carry the seeds, as if you're their chariot, down to the earth where they'll sleep all winter. They lie there, cold and humble, like dead bodies in their graves, until your blue sister, the Spring wind, blows her trumpet and wakes up the earth. Then she brings out the buds. They are like flocks of sheep; they feed in the open air. And she fills the meadows and the hills with sweet smells and beautiful colors. Unruly west wind, moving everywhere: you are both an exterminator and a savior. Please listen to me! 2nd stanza: Thou on whose stream, mid the step sky’s commotion, Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine aery surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith’s height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulche, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear! SUMMARY- In the high and whirling reaches of the sky, you send the clouds twirling: they look like dead leaves, shaken loose from the branches of the heavens and the sea. They are like angels, full of rain and lightning. Or they are scattered across the blue sky, like the blond hair of a wildly dancing girl who is a follower of Dionysus. The clouds stretch from the horizon to the top of the sky like the hair of the coming storm. West wind, you sad song of the end of the year. The night sky will be like the dome of a vast tomb, the clouds you gathered like archways running across it. And from the solid top of that tomb, dark rain, lightning, and hail will fall down. Listen to me! 3rd Stanza: Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae’s bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave’s intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! SUMMARY- You woke the Mediterranean from its summer dreams. That blue sea, which lay wrapped in its crystal-clear currents, was snoozing near an island made of volcanic rock in the Bay of Baiae, near Naples. In the waters of the bay you saw the ruins of old palaces and towers, now submerged in the water's thicker form of daylight. These ruins were overgrown with sea plants that looked like blue moss and flowers. They are so beautiful that I faint when I think of them. You-whose path turns the smooth surface of the Atlantic Ocean into tall waves, while deep below the surface sea-flowers and forests of seaweed, which have leaves with no sap, hear your voice and turn gray from fear, trembling, losing their flowers and leaves-listen to me, wind! 4th stanza: If I were a dead leaf thou mightiest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne’er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Oh, life me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. SUMMARY- If only I was a dead leaf, you might carry me. You might let me fly with you if I was a cloud. Or if I was a wave that you drive forward, I would share your strength-though I’d be less free than you, since no one can control you. If only I could be the way I was when I was a child, when I was your friend, wandering with you across the sky-then it didn’t seem crazy to imagine that I could be as fast as you are-then I wouldn’t have called out to you, prayed to you, in desperation. Please lift me up like a wave, a leaf, or a cloud! I am falling into life’s sharp thorns and bleeding! Time has put me in shackles and diminished my pride, though I was once as proud, fast, and unruly as you. 5th stanza: 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? SUMMARY- Make me into your musical instrument, just as the forest is when you blow through it. So what if my leaves are falling like the forest’s leaves. The ruckus of your powerful music will bring a deep, autumn music out of both me and the forest. It will be beautiful even though it’s sad. Unruly soul, you should become my soul. You should become me, you unpredictable creature. Scatter my dead thoughts across the universe like fallen leaves to inspire something new and exciting. Let this poem be a prayer that scatters ashes and sparks-as though from a fire that someone forgot to put out-throughout the human race. Speak through me, and in that way, turn my words into a prediction of the future. O wind, if winter is on its way, isn’t Spring going to follow it soon?
Your way of explanation is too gudd sir.... I'm in last year and i want to thank you 🙏😭may god bless you sir with lots of happiness and success in your life 🫶🥹
Sir mai ne english literature mein BA complete kiya hai mujhe masters karna chahiye ya nehi. And also Mukhe graduation ke bacho ko padane ne ke liye bola ja raha hai Kya karo unhe padau ya nehi?
Aap nay The wasteland k part 4 and 5 ki summary explain nhi ki..I requested almost 1 months ago....Please sir please make videos on these two parts....If you make videos please pin the links in you first videos please sir....
