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For some reason, Yeats' Second Coming has always resonated with me.

> 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.

@codesections
Now I understand why my literature professor said that Yeats always made him weep.

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