QuantumNomad
@quantumnomad
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
31 recasts
112 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
3 replies
22 recasts
80 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
3 replies
25 recasts
81 reactions
39 replies
28 recasts
169 reactions
4 replies
47 recasts
79 reactions
5 replies
48 recasts
45 reactions
50 replies
40 recasts
204 reactions
26 replies
56 recasts
181 reactions
