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.
The thought-o, which I cannot figure out, as it was a substitution of a more obscure, rarely-used word for a commmon one, was "...Anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tilde..."
Blood-dimmed tilde will absolutely be the title of my next book. Yup.
That is all...
