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.


                                                --G. K. Chesterton