Wednesday, November 25, 2020

THE SECOND COMING:A POEM EVERY WRITER NEEDS TO KNOW

By Roy Peter Clark
From Poynter

November 2020 marks the 100th anniversary of the publication of one of the most famous and influential poems of the 20th century. It is titled “The Second Coming.” It was written in 1919 by the Irish poet William Butler Yeats.

To understand the enduring power of “The Second Coming,” it helps to know the historical and personal context in which it was written. For Yeats in 1919, it must have looked as if the world was falling apart.

World War I, the so-called Great War, was over, but not its terrible consequences of death, injury, madness and dislocation. The Russian Revolution shook the world order. An Irish rebellion for independence from the British was crushed. 

And the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918 and 1919 had killed millions. Yeats wrote the poem while his pregnant wife was recovering from a near-death struggle with the disease.

In short, things were falling apart. Sound familiar?

Here is the poem in its entirety — 22 lines, republished for educational purposes:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center 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 blind 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 toward Bethlehem to be born?

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

The Temptations said the same thing in their 1970 hit "Ball of Confusion", albeit, in a slightly more hip style. Time has not eroded its meaning or significance in today's world. Poetry is where you find it my Brother.

Anonymous said...

In bad times everybody is your brother in good times everybody is a racist

Anonymous said...

Within the electric song lyrics of Bob Dylan, howl the ghosts of William Yeats’ Symbolist poetics:

All perform their tragic play
There struts Hamlet, there is Lear
That’s Ophelia, that Cordelia
(William Yeats: Lapis Luzuli)

Now Ophelia, she’s ‘neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
(Bob Dylan: Desolation Row)

Through hollow lands, and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And kiss her lips and take her hands
And walk among long dappled grass
(William Yeats: Song Of The Wandering Aengus)

You’re gonna have to leave me now, I know
But I’ll see you in the sky above
In the tall grass, in the one I love
You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go
(Bob Dylan: You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go)

Don’t fall apart on me tonight
I just don’t think I could handle it
Don’t fall apart on me tonight
Yesterday’s just a memory
Tomorrow is never what it’s supposed to be
(Bob Dylan: Don’t Fall Apart On Me Tonight)
....

Anonymous said...

Gonna change
my way of thinking
make myself a diffent
set of rules.

bob dylan

Anonymous said...

Where's that intellectually disabled hillbilly idiota a sagaciously moron!

rita