Brighthouse
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- Joined
- Jan 22, 2009
- Messages
- 1,567
Turing and turning in the Widening Gyre
The Falcon cannot hear the falconer
things fall apart;the center will not hold;
Mere anarchy 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 Spirtus Mundi
troubles my sight:A waste of desert sand;
a shape with lion body and the head of a man,
a gaze blank as pitless 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 has come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
This Poem was written in 1919 after the first World War. The writer of this poem was William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) Many have looked to understand this poem,I think most of you understand very well this poem!
For in times such as we have, that same beast who stuck its ugly head before,is doing so again. I am not a poet,nor do I read much of it.But for some strange reason the Lord had me go to this one! I hope it will cause you to do what it did for me. just think.I found this most intersting, and hope you did as well!! Blessing to you!
The Falcon cannot hear the falconer
things fall apart;the center will not hold;
Mere anarchy 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 Spirtus Mundi
troubles my sight:A waste of desert sand;
a shape with lion body and the head of a man,
a gaze blank as pitless 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 has come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
This Poem was written in 1919 after the first World War. The writer of this poem was William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) Many have looked to understand this poem,I think most of you understand very well this poem!
For in times such as we have, that same beast who stuck its ugly head before,is doing so again. I am not a poet,nor do I read much of it.But for some strange reason the Lord had me go to this one! I hope it will cause you to do what it did for me. just think.I found this most intersting, and hope you did as well!! Blessing to you!