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 a rocking cradle, And
what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? |
|部落|Archiver|英文巴士
( 渝ICP备10012431号-2 )
GMT+8, 2016-10-5 11:55 , Processed in 0.078665 second(s), 9 queries , Gzip On, Redis On.