William Butler Yeats

Today’s Poetry Foundation poem featured W. B. Yeats’ Sailing to Byzantium. I’m a fan of Yeats’ gloomier moods like “Second Coming.”   Against the backdrop of Paris, it speaks so strongly.

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
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