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)