Classic Poem

Raphael slipped past those he healed,
Beside the troubled pool,
And none knew where he vanished,
Save only one, called fool.

None he had cured could see him,
Only the witless one,
Who went at heel of Raphael
Into the setting sun.

Barefoot, dumb, ragged,
With such wit as he hath,
He has kept close to Raphael
On the sun-ray for a path.

The healed went forth, important,
Expounding Raphael's skill,
The while a fool, behind him,
Dreamed up a shining hill. . . .