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;

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.

G K Chesterton