The Convert
After one moment 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 herd 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 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 (1874-1936)
English journalist, novelist, and poet
After one moment 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 herd 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 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 (1874-1936)
English journalist, novelist, and poet
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