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.