If the red slayer think he slays, br Or if the slain think he is slain, br They know not well the subtle ways br I keep, and pass, and turn again. br br Far or forgot to me is near; br Shadow and sunlight are the same; br The vanished gods to me appear; br And one to me are shame and fame. br br They reckon ill who leave me out; br When me they fly, I am the wings; br I am the doubter and the doubt, br And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. br br The strong gods pine for my abode, br And pine in vain the sacred Seven; br But thou, meek lover of the good! br Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.