The Donkey, by G.K. Chesterton
When fishes flew and forests walkedAnd figs grew upon thorn,Some moment when the moon was bloodThen surely I was born; With monstrous head and sickening cryAnd ears like errant wings,The
When fishes flew and forests walkedAnd figs grew upon thorn,Some moment when the moon was bloodThen surely I was born; With monstrous head and sickening cryAnd ears like errant wings,The
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