Sunday, June 19, 2011

Things fall apart



























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.



This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart.
































Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;


He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:































        A terrible beauty is born.

(Excerpts from poetry by W. B. Yeats)

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