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.