Summary
In the second half of the poem, the cloud continues to narrate the events that take place around it, highlighting its own vital role but stressing the intertwined, collaborative processes that characterize its natural setting.
Night falls in stanza four, and the cloud introduces the figure of the moon, which is personified as a maiden. The moon "glides glimmeringly" over the cloud's "fleece-like floor." In the parts of the sky where the cloud is more loosely dispersed, stars peek through its holes in the dark sky. As a result, the cloud willingly and even eagerly parts, tearing itself to create space for the moon. On the ground, the rivers, lakes, and seas reflect the moon and stars above, and the cloud closely observes the imprint of moonlight on these bodies of water.
In stanza five, the poem reaches its climax as the sun and moon are overpowered by the cloud's fierce winds and rain as it escalates into a hurricane. The cloud reflects on its own immense power, parading almost militaristically through nature. By the end, as the storm dissipates, a rainbow appears in the sky while the earth "laughs" below. The cloud's dominance is not distressing to the other elements of nature, but is instead a source of excitement.
Finally, in stanza six, the cloud has nearly dissipated following the storm. Rather than feeling diminished or dying away, it treats this time as a period of rest and preparation for its rebirth. Indeed, the cloud finds a certain amusement in its own decline, precisely because it knows that this decline is impermanent and is in fact merely a preface to renewal. As the poem closes, the cloud emphasizes its relationship to water, earth, and sky, explaining that it is never absent from nature because of its inextricability from these other elements. It then states that—like a ghost rising from the dead—it, too, will rise and begin its life anew.
Analysis
While the first half of the poem concentrates on the cloud's role in the natural world, the second half is devoted to its strength, including its potential to wreak havoc on the earth below. However, this latter part of the poem is interesting and surprising precisely because, ultimately, it does not contradict the first half. The cloud's potential for strength is treated as an extension, or a small but important facet, of its broader role in the natural world. Shelley stresses the way that it displays strength and restraint by turns, never choosing to totally dominate other parts of nature. Therefore, its strength is a source of joy for the earth and other parts of nature, since they can treat storms as temporary, thrilling flashes of excitement rather than a tyrannical status quo. The cloud, in turn, can expect the same from others. It feels peaceful and grateful during its time of quiet recuperation, knowing that its fellows in the natural world will run the show in its absence without taking advantage of its weakness. In other words, Shelley suggests, natural cycles—and perhaps any successful collaborative movement—demand balance, change, and interdependence.
In stanza four, the cloud so enjoys the moon's ethereal beauty that it chooses to reduce its own influence on purpose. "When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,/Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas,/Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,/Are each paved with the moon and these," the cloud explains, demonstrating how it momentarily tears itself, becoming invisible so that the moon can assume greater power. This is not a selfless sacrifice on the part of the cloud. Rather, it is clear that the cloud stands to benefit from giving the moon momentary power, since it gets to enjoy the subsequent beauty that the moon creates. This passage is also a good example of the incredibly complex, knotted relationships that characterize this poem and much of Shelley's writing as a whole. The exchange in which the cloud "widens the rent" is not merely a reciprocal interaction between the cloud and the moon. Rather, the bodies of water on the earth below are involved, reflecting moonlight—which, in turn, is observed by the cloud. Moreover, via metaphor, Shelley implicates the sky in the interaction as well, describing the bodies of water below as "like strips of the sky fallen through me on high." This metaphor creates a kind of circular, fluid relationship between the cloud, the sky, and the water—one brought fully to life by the moon. Again, if we choose to read this poem as a political allegory in addition to a pastoral ode to nature, it is easy to see that Shelley conceives of healthy societies as deeply intertwined places, in which each person owes those around them a good deal and stands to effect them in a dizzying multitude of ways.
In the next stanza, the poem's climax occurs as the cloud "binds" both the sun and the moon, and no sunlight can pierce through its heavy cover to the world below. Whirlwinds "unfurl" over land and sea. When the cloud "marches/with Hurricane, fire, and snow," a rainbow follows in its wake, and the earth "laughs" as the "million-colored bow" crosses the sky. This at first might seem like a moment of real conflict, in which the cloud attempts to threaten the rest of nature by asserting dominance over it. Readers might wonder whether the cloud will become power-drunk, refusing to relinquish its role as a tyrant. But, Shelley emphasizes, nature is in certain ways a perfect system, with built-in defenses against tyrannical rule. The cloud's stormy dominance brings it momentary control, but ultimately, rain (not to mention rainbows) actually make the earth and other parts of nature healthier. Therefore, even when the cloud becomes overwhelmed by its own power, it is inherently empowering and aiding others. This, Shelley suggests, is the only foolproof way for different types of people to live among each other: society must be set up in such a way that any individual's instincts actually serve others, creating balance. The fact that Shelley preserves the poem's anapestic rhythm and ABCB rhyme scheme, even when the cloud has overpowered the rest of nature, is in itself an indication that the cloud is not permanently upsetting nature's balance: its dramatic actions are part of the rhythm that has already been established.
In the final stanza, the cloud calls itself the "daughter of Earth and Water" and "the nursling of Sky," suggesting that its power is infinitely renewable, and that it thrives vicariously through related parts of the natural world even when it is not itself in a position of control or visibility. The riddle-like phrase "I change, but I cannot die" succinctly summarizes the cloud's greatest strength: no matter how often it lets loose a torrent upon the world, it will always return. Its strength, in other words, is actually rooted in its acceptance of momentary weakness. By embracing moments of vulnerability or weakness, it is able to rest and be reborn. The world becomes bluer and brighter while the cloud "silently laughs" at its own "cenotaph"— an empty tomb or monument that honors someone who is buried elsewhere. By explicitly stating that the cloud transforms but never dies, Shelley suggests that historical changes or revolutionary movements survive in spite of superficial changes in leadership or context. Furthermore, he suggests, history is cyclical but not pointless: the maintenance and perfection of those harmonious cycles is an end in and of itself, requiring constant work and change.
