General Discussion
Related: Editorials & Other Articles, Issue Forums, Alliance Forums, Region ForumsTurning 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: a waste of desert sand;
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
Wind 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?
William Butler Yeats
The Second Coming, 1919
The Velveteen Ocelot
(115,693 posts)it's been going through my mind lately.
elleng
(130,908 posts)but glad to get back into Poetry mode.
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
flying rabbit
(4,634 posts)That one. "Ozymandius" comes to mind as well.
philly_bob
(2,419 posts)Hekate
(90,690 posts)They see more and more -- but in this case the falcon has escaped the control of its master. It has gone too far out to hear the command to return.
Hope that helps. It's a magnificent poem, written right after WWI and just as the Irish Revolution was beginning.
philly_bob
(2,419 posts)susanna
(5,231 posts)many times, but never so much as since November 9, 2016.
Hekate
(90,690 posts)raven mad
(4,940 posts)Thank you.
MineralMan
(146,308 posts)Thanks for posting it!