W.B. Yeats - The Second Coming and Collected Poems (1919-19xx)
The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats is the current official working title of his longer collection. The book that originally contains the "The Second Coming" is called
Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921), but I figured I'd list the title of his most famous poem, one that has gripped nearly everybody this century who felt the world was ending somehow.
Written in 1919 and published in 1920, "The Second Coming" is a poem that (even if you haven't read it) you've heard interspersed throughout modern culture, even in, or especially in, the America of 2025. If you've ever heard the phrase "things fall apart," "the centre cannot hold," "anarchy is loosed upon the world," or "the best lack all conviction" followed by "the worst are full of passionate intensity," you've felt the poem in some way or another, handed down by those who would worry about society and its direction but want to be literate; to nod to something higher and to be edified by the beauty of the perfect arrangement of words. And arrange Yeats did. There are so many written versions and edits to the poem before its publication that one nods in admiration at how hard Yeats tried to write and edit and how perfect the result was.
The poem is elevated and on high. There is a mastery of language without formal meter or rhyme. Yeats doesn't write in perfect iambic pentameter, nor do his couplets rhyme and if they do, they rhyme out of repetition—a singular word suffices to rhyme with itself:
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The poem begins with a slow-motion collapse of all things ordered and decent; where confusion and impending doom are the order of the day, and it ends not with a hack's depiction of the final state of collapse (there is no gruesome depiction of death, destruction, apocalypse, and bodies), but rather with the penultimate state of affairs and a description of the worst part of the inevitability of violent decline—the uncertainty and worry of the form and nature that will eventually bring our destruction.
And that's what strikes me about the poem. Everybody will worry and curse when Napoleon is marching through the streets of Berlin, or the Nazis the same almost a century and half later; but what of those who see it all unfolding and scream themselves into madness to try and stop it before it happens? That is Yeats's curse and charge. The observational power of a Nietzsche-like intellect mixed with the feeling of one's real-life impotency to do something about everything that matters. To be cursed with the observant powers of the decline while not knowing what form it will take and how destructive it will be. So it ends.
"Beautiful Lofty Things," also by Yeats, is a chronicle of his friends who were major players during the Irish Renaissance. It is also one of my favorites and couldn't be more different than "The Second Coming." A beautiful poem born of friendship, Yeats holds his friends in adulation and elevates them to God-like status, never once seeming like the egoist or the exclusive; but rather, somebody who loves his friends and former acquaintances and so deifies them.
The Second Coming
Beautiful Lofty Things