Some are the brothers of all humankind, 
And own them, whatsoever their estate; 
And some, for sorrow and self-scorn, are blind 
With enmity for man's unguarded fate. 

For some there is a music all day long 
Like flutes in Paradise, they are so glad; 
And there is hell's eternal under-song 
Of curses and the cries of men gone mad. 

Some say the Scheme with love stands luminous, 
Some say 't were better back to chaos hurled; 
And so 't is what we are that makes for us 
The measure and the meaning of the world. 

Added: on February 17th, 2006 at 9:56 AM | Viewed: 2520 times | Comments (2)

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: The World
Poem of the Day: Feb 17 2006

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