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.