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.

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