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Written by: Ralph Waldo Emerson | Biography
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; 5 
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; 10 
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! 15 
Find me and turn thy back on heaven.