Tag Archives: William Butler Yeats

Yeats channeling the future

“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.”

William Butler Yeats channeling Wormtongue (our Barry Hussein), long before his earness’s birth.

Via Miriam’s Ideas.

I spit into the face of Time

THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER

by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

    • LTHOUGH I shelter from the rain
      Under a broken tree
      My chair was nearest to the fire
      In every company
      That talked of love or politics,
      Ere Time transfigured me.
      Though lads are making pikes again
      For some conspiracy,
      And crazy rascals rage their fill
      At human tyranny,
      My contemplations are of Time
      That has transfigured me.
      There’s not a woman turns her face
      Upon a broken tree,
      And yet the beauties that I loved
      Are in my memory;
      I spit into the face of Time
      That has transfigured me.

 

What rough beast…

Miriam, a librarian, after all, summons William Butler Yeats for a poetic reaction to Barry’s ascendence:

"…what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?"

Ouch.