The Convert

After one moment when I bowed my head

       And the whole world turned over and came upright,

       And I came out where the old road shone white,

       I walked the ways and heard what all men said,

       Forests of tongues, like autumn leaves unshed,

       Being not unlovable but strange and light;

       Old riddles and new creeds, not in despite

       But softly, as men smile about the dead.

       The sages have a hundred maps to give

       That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,

       They rattle reason out through many a sieve

       That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:

       And all these things are less than dust to me

       Because my name is Lazarus and I live.