The Idiot

He stands on the kerb     Watching the street.     He's always watching there,     Listening to the beat     Of time in the street,     Listening to the thronging feet,     Laughing at the world that goes     Scowling or laughing by.     He sees Time go by,     An old lonely man,     Crooked and furtive and slow.     He laughs as he sees     Time shambling by     While he stands at his ease,     Until Time smiles wanly back     At his laughing eye.     Greed's great paunch,     Lean Envy's ill looks,     Fond forgetful Love,     He reads them like books:     Whatever their tongue     He reads them like children's books,     Stands staring and laughing there     As all they go by.     O, he laughs as he sees     The fat and the thin,     The simple, the solemn and wise     Nod-nodding by.     He stares in their eyes,     Till they're angry and murmur, Poor fool!     And he hears and he laughs again     From the depth of his folly.     Even when with heavy     Plume and pall     The sleeky coaches roll by,     Coffin, flowers and all,     He laughs, for he sees     Crouched on the coffin a small     Yellowy shape go by--     Death, uneasy and melancholy.