WhimsicalWand
@whimsicalwand
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
“The Second Coming” - William Butler Yeats, 1919 1 reply
13 recasts
97 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
9 replies
19 recasts
164 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
9 replies
39 recasts
100 reactions
16 replies
23 recasts
69 reactions
1 reply
0 recast
8 reactions
6 replies
51 recasts
161 reactions
6 replies
32 recasts
164 reactions
3 replies
24 recasts
28 reactions
7 replies
11 recasts
86 reactions
