Index of Arcadia & Katwood Home Page

News
New Improved News Links Page, with a less restricted sense of the Possible

 Arcadia & Katwood Farm Home Pages

Family Pages

Cats

Daniel Walking Bear

Pictures from Colorado 1999

Pictures from the Virginia Moto Guzzi Rally, 1999

Pictures 1 Moto Guzzi 2000
Pictures 2 Moto Guzzi 2000

Pictures of Flooding at Arcadia

Pictures of 1941 Indian 4
 
 
 
 

The Second Coming
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Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center 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 conviction; 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 the 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 toward Bethlehem to be born?

- W.B.Yeats
 
 
 

excerpted from Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

Beginning My Studies
Beginning my studies the first step pleas'd me so much,
The mere consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,
The least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love,
The first step I say awed and pleas'd me so much,
I have hardly gone and hardly wish to go any farther,
But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.

Beginners
How they are provided for upon the earth (appearing at intervals,)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,
How they inure to themselves as much as to any
-- what a paradox appears their age,
How people respond to them, yet know them not,
How there is something relentless in their fate all times
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward
And the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same great purchase.

Walt Whitman