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 fIy, 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA by HENRY CLAY WORK FAREWELL TO ARRAS by ADAM DE LA HALLE ON THE MOOR by ROBERT ADAMSON (1832-) FRAGMENT OF A CHORUS OF A DEJANEIRA by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE FORMER LIFE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE REBECCA; WHO SLAMMED DOORS FOR FUN AND PERISHED MISERABLY by HILAIRE BELLOC |