THE SECOND COMING (FEATURED POST)






                                                              
Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart; the center holds
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 comes round at last
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 



Written/Composed by: W. B. YEATS
 

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