THE IDIOT

He stands on the kerb

Watching the street.

He's always watching there,

Listening to the beat

Of time in the street,

Listening to the thronging feet,

Laughing at the world that goes

Scowling or laughing by.

He sees Time go by,

An old lonely man,

Crooked and furtive and slow.

He laughs as he sees

Time shambling by

While he stands at his ease,

Until Time smiles wanly back

At his laughing eye.

Greed's great paunch,

Lean Envy's ill looks,

Fond forgetful Love,

He reads them like books:

Whatever their tongue

He reads them like children's books,

Stands staring and laughing there

As all they go by.

O, he laughs as he sees

The fat and the thin,

The simple, the solemn and wise

Nod-nodding by.

He stares in their eyes,

Till they're angry and murmur, Poor fool!

And he hears and he laughs again

From the depth of his folly.

Even when with heavy

Plume and pall

The sleeky coaches roll by,

Coffin, flowers and all,

He laughs, for he sees

Crouched on the coffin a small

Yellowy shape go by —

Death, uneasy and melancholy.