Shelley’s lyric catches Proserpine in a moment of perfect, sunlit simplicity. She is just a young goddess picking flowers on the plain of Enna, and she speaks directly to Mother Earth. Her words are a heartfelt request for the same quiet nourishment that drives all life—gods, mortals, animals, leaf and blossom. The mood is intimate and worshipful, like a child’s bedtime blessing. The repeated lines, “Breathe thine influence most divine / On thine own child, Proserpine,” make the poem feel soft and incantatory. Knowing the myth, there is a shadow beneath the brightness: this peaceful communion with the earth will soon be broken by her abduction into the underworld. Yet the poem itself never leaves that meadow. It stays suspended in a feeling of trust, as if the very dew and scent of the flowers could keep her safe.
Song of Proserpine While Gathering Flowers on the Plain of Enna — Summary
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods, and men, and beasts have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine.
If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow, in scent and hue, Fairest children of the Hours, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine.