Category Archives: Poetry

Easter, 1916

Easter, 1916

By William Butler Yeats 1865–1939

I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

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Black Power Dialectics (HUM415)

Note that this clip is prefaced with a commercial. Does that mean consumer capitalism has won? That it contains the seeds of its own destruction?

In any case, consider these words:

The course of revolution is 360 degrees.

Understand the cycle that never ends.

Understand the beginning to be the end and nothing

in between but space and time that I make or you make

to relate or not to relate to the world outside my mind, your mind.

Speak not of revolution until you are willing to eat rats to survive.

What can you do with these lyrics?