The Sheaves A Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson www.poetrynook.com Where long the shadows of the wind had rolled, Green wheat was yielding to the change assigned; And as by some vast magic undivined The world was turning slowly into gold. Like nothing that was ever bought or sold It waited there, the body and the mind; And with a mighty meaning of a kind That tells the more the more it is not told. So in a land where all days are not fair, Fair days went on till on another day A thousand golden sheaves were lying there, Shining and still, but not for long to stay— As if a thousand girls with golden hair Might rise from where they slept and go away. farmingseasonschangemelancholy
The blind men and the elephant A Proverb "I see" said the first, grasping a leg, "an elephant is like a tree." "I see" said the second, holding the tail, "an elephant is like a snake." Another, feeling the ear, said "an elephant is surely much like a thick carpet." The blind men who felt the elephantThe group of blind mullahs holism