[Read W.B. Yeats’ remarkable poem “The Second Coming"]
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
………………..
And what rough beast, his hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
W. B. Yeats, “The Second Coming” (1919)
He knew—that mildly addled Irishman—
That hist’ry spiraled, bounced like bungees, down
And up, skids from side to side, momentum
Prone. He knew the rapt tides of greed would drown
Us all. But he got one thing wildly wrong.
That rough and slouching Beast does not gestate
Two thousand years! Nowhere near that long—
A decade or two at most. Raw, irate,
Exceptional America fought wars
(Great and small, hot and cold) a dozen times
In a bit more than a century. Scores
Of angry nations ranged not far behind!
Meanwhile, we elders dream of sanity—
A birth of wisdom, love, humanity.
(11/23/10)