|
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.
1856 [1857]
 Criticism on "Brahma."
|
