The Second Coming

  • The Second Coming

  • Poem

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre

    Profile Picture of Poem in The Second Coming
  • 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