The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
How better could one describe the world today? The dark-age cult of islamist lunacy the "the worst" who (along with their toady leftist apologists) are filled with "passionate intensity", while significant chunks of Western Civilization ("the best") are found to "lack all convictions", a definition of the weasly U.N. and the insufferable Democratic Party.
Of course, this poem does suffer from Xtian imagry, but it is a fascinating read for these days ...
The Second Coming
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 convictions, 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?
-- W. B. Yeats