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Happy lent to my goyische pals
Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; | 6 |
| A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, | 3 |
| Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? | 1 |
| Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it | 1 |
| The darkness drops again; but now I know | 1 |
| Surely some revelation is at hand; | 1 |
| A shape with lion body and the head of a man, | 1 |
| The best lack all conviction, while the worst | 1 |
| The ceremony of innocence is drowned; | 1 |
| Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, | 1 |
| And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, | 1 |
| The falcon cannot hear the falconer; | 1 |
| Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. | 0 |
| That twenty centuries of stony sleep | 0 |
| Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert | 0 |
| When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi | 0 |
| The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out | 0 |
| Surely the Second Coming is at hand. | 0 |
| Are full of passionate intensity. | 0 |
| The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere | 0 |
| Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, | 0 |
| Turning and turning in the widening gyre | 0 |
― softie (silby), Tuesday, 7 March 2017 16:45 (eight years ago)
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