Maya by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Through an ascending emptiness of night,
Leaving the flesh and complacent mind
Together in their suffciency behind,
The soul of man went up to a far height;
And where those others would have had no sight
Or sense of else than terror for the blind,
Soul met the Will, and was again consigned
To the surpreme illusion which is right.

"And what goes on up there," the Mind inquired,
"That I know not already to be true?"—
"More than enough, but not enough for you,"
Said the descending Soul: "Here in the dark,
Where you are least revealed when most admired,
You may still be the bellows and the spark."

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Other poems by 'Edwin Arlington Robinson'

Richard Cory

Haunted House

Mr Flood's Party

Miniver Cheevy

Karma

Luke Havergal

Firelight

The Mill

The House on the Hill

The Story Of The Ashes And The Flame

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