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The Donkey

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born;
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

I keep my secret still.
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Fools! For I also had my hour;

G.K. Chesterton (1874–1936)

This post first appeared on Santos Woodcarving Popsicles, please read the originial post: here

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