frarjohn: (Default)
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.

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 blank 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 towards Bethlehem to be born?
--The Second Coming, William Butler Yeats (1919)

Sentiones )

A Draft

Nov. 1st, 2010 09:27 pm
frarjohn: Romanus miles (Centurion)
Here, have the draft of a poem I've been working on. It's based off of my translations of two Horatian Odes. Let me know what you think?
Opus )

frarjohn: (Default)
I thought I'd start a new journal, as I couldn't get myself to post anything for livejournal anymore, which seems to be the case for most people here. Anyways, no idea how much I'll post - thesis writing is a nice time-sink (first draft due Monday!).


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December 2010

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