Anger and Indignation

Springtime for Hitler and Germany, Deutschland is happy and gay. We’re moving to a faster pace, Look out, here comes the Master Race!

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Huffy Henry hid the day, Unappeasable Henry sulked.

my negritude riddles with holes the dense affliction of its worthy patience.

Let us have madness openly, O men Of my generation. Let us follow The footsteps of this slaughtered age.

Tugging all day at perverse life: The indignity of it!

When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

I will not see it! Tell the moon to come for I do not want to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand.

Truly, I live in dark times! The guileless word is folly. A smooth forehead Suggests insensitivity. The man who laughs Has simply not yet had The terrible news.

Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

What passing bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons.

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth, Stealing my breath of life, I must confess I love this cultured hell that tests my youth! Her vigor flows like tides into my blood, Giving me strength erect against her hate. Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.

Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes. These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.

The pure products of America go crazy—

It looked as if a night of dark intent Was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage. There would be more than ocean-water broken Before God’s last Put out the Light was spoken.

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

Here richly, with ridiculous display, The Politician’s corpse was laid away. While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.

Swift has sailed into his rest; Savage indignation there Cannot lacerate his breast, Imitate him if you dare, World-besotted traveler; he Served human liberty.

Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.

An intellectual hatred is the worst, So let her think opinions are accursed. Have I not seen the loveliest woman born Out of the mouth of Plenty’s horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind?

If there’s no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart 5 ; 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, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

All the wild witches, those most noble ladies, For all their broomsticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.