BEHIND

I saw an old man like a child,

His blue eyes bright, his white hair wild,

Who turned for ever, and might not stop,

Round and round like an urchin's top.

‘ Fool,’ I cried,‘ while you spin round,

‘ Others grow wise, are praised, are crowned.’

Ever the same round road he trod,

‘ This is better: I seek for God.’

‘ We see the whole world, left and right,

Yet at the blind back hides from sight

The unseen Master that drives us forth

To East and West, to South and North.

‘ Over my shoulder for eighty years

I have looked for the gleam of the sphere of spheres.’

‘ In all your turning, what have you found?’

‘ At least, I know why the world goes round.’