I saw an old man like a child,
His blue eyes bright, his white hair wild,
Who turned for ever, and might not stop,
Round and round like an urchin's top.
‘ Fool,’ I cried,‘ while you spin round,
‘ Others grow wise, are praised, are crowned.’
Ever the same round road he trod,
‘ This is better: I seek for God.’
‘ We see the whole world, left and right,
Yet at the blind back hides from sight
The unseen Master that drives us forth
To East and West, to South and North.
‘ Over my shoulder for eighty years
I have looked for the gleam of the sphere of spheres.’
‘ In all your turning, what have you found?’
‘ At least, I know why the world goes round.’