[lit-ideas] Re: End of Times

  • From: Omar Kusturica <omarkusto@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 23 Jul 2006 13:56:47 -0700 (PDT)

Speaking of Yeats:


INTO THE TWILIGHT
OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
Your mother Eire is always young,
Dew ever shining and twilight grey;
Though hope fall from you and love decay,
Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.
Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there the mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will;
And God stands winding His lonely horn,
And time and the world are ever in flight;
And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.




--- John McCreery <john.mccreery@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:

> Yeats seems even more prescient now than when the
> poem was written.
> Thanks, Helen.
> 
> John
> 
> On 7/23/06, Helen Wishart <hwishart@xxxxxxx> wrote:
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > The Second Coming
> >
> >
> >
> > 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 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 come round at
> last,
> >  Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
> >
> >
> >
> > January 1919
> >
> > W.B. Yeats
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > From: lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
> [mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx]
> > On Behalf Of Andy Amago
> >  Sent: Sunday, July 23, 2006 1:54 AM
> >  To: lit-ideas
> >  Subject: [lit-ideas] End of Times
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
>
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-endtimes22jun22,0,5277604,full.story?coll=la-headlines-california
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> 
> 
> -- 
> John McCreery
> The Word Works, Ltd., Yokohama, JAPAN
> 
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