Ralph Waldo Emerson
If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
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Comments about this poem (Brahma by Ralph Waldo Emerson )
- Come, Come....., Marshall Gass
- From In the mind, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Gramma's house., Harold R Hunt Sr
- Rubber-Band, Marshall Gass
- Stepping Into Your Mind, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- this poem, Bull Hawking
- Revealed From Pretentions Concealed, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Ego Control, Ali Faisal
- Coming Home, Randy McClave
- what is this? i don't even..., Mandolyn ...
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