Explain the following: "There is no music in the life That sounds with empty laughter wholly; There's not a string attuned to mirth But has its chord in melancholy." What does the skylark mean to Shelley? If we think only of being happy shall we be very helpful to others? Make a list of all the names he gives the skylark. Enumerate the expressions Shelley uses in characterizing the song. Which stanza do you like best? Why? "wert" rhymes with heart. (In England the sound is broad, er=är). "even"--a contraction of evening. Words and Phrases for Discussion. "profuse strains" "panted forth" "heavy-winged thieves" "unpremeditated art" "rain of melody" "harmonious madness" "shrill delight" "flood of rapture" "float and run" "rains out" "triumphant chaunt" "scattering unbeholden" * * * * * THE CLOUD PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams; From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast, Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers, Lightning, my pilot, sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,-- It struggles and howls by fits; Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The spirit he loves remains; And I, all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning-star shines dead, As on the jag of a mountain-crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle, alit, one moment may sit, In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardors of rest and love, And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, As still as a brooding dove.