| William Butler Yeats Poem (for 04/06/01): “The War” I Corrupted power, turned against Good As the bloody tyrant there hence stood Amid the bleeding chips of broken wood That from the spine, the bones and marrow spray At the twilight of the day When the despot comes to stay, ‘mid all the eider-down. The cries ring out, the rebels flock To the jeering cries that freedom mock From the monarch, new pronounced King Or Queen, as the case may be His/her name, down history will ring Immortalized by inhumanity. The birds of Freedom fly, two eyes begin to cry The eyes of warm compassion, good and true The tyrant brings hands of hungry death nigh As the winds of war had done before, they blew II The rebels fight and win, no matter, how… It is over! Compassion rejoices! But still are heard the grating growl Of vague, unsatisfied voices… Tyrants in the making, from angry days of old Someday they will rise, new conflict to begin But how to fight these dire foes When the virus is within? |