Things Fall Apart And Come Together

  The Second Coming By William Butler Yeats  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. 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...