Saturday, 28 March 2015

A poem for Palm Sunday.

The Donkey (by G. K. Chesterton).

 
 
When fishes flew and forests walked   
   And figs grew upon thorn,   
Some moment when the moon was blood   
   Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
   And ears like errant wings,   
The devil’s walking parody   
   On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
   Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,   
   I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
   One far fierce hour and sweet:   
There was a shout about my ears,
   And palms before my feet.
 
 
(Thanks to my friend Bruce Lomas who posted this recently on Facebook, and thus reminded me of poem I had long forgotten)

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