I LIFT the cup of Brahma high!— The cup and liquor both are his; That flowing draught is perfect rest, For Brahma's self the liquor is. Let endless kalpas still revolve, Who quaffs, no grief shall e'er befall; For he shall dream the dream of God, And never know he dreams at all. My transmigrating days are o'er; God's hand presents the sacred cup; I eager grasp the chalice now, And drink the Godhead's liquor up. And while the sacred wine I quaff, Tow souls are mingled on the brim; I drink of Brahma in the cup, And he receives me into him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MOTH SEEN IN WINTER by ROBERT FROST HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 4. THE MORAL by KAREN SWENSON |