| Brahma |
| by: 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. |