Poems of W.B. Yeats: The Rose

What happens when those words are “hardly out” of his mouth?

The Second Coming bt Yeats

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The speaker sees a vision of,

a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
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
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.