Gilbert Keith Chesterton

(29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936 / London, England)

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

41. The Song Of The Strange Ascetic 1/1/2004
42. The Road To Roundabout 1/1/2004
43. The Ballad Of The Anti-Puritan 1/1/2004
44. The Skeleton 1/1/2004
45. The Higher Unity 1/1/2004
46. The Song Of Quoodle 1/1/2004
47. The Great Minimum 1/1/2004
48. The Logical Vegetarian 1/1/2004
49. To The Unknown Warrior 1/1/2004
50. To Belloc 1/1/2004
51. A Word 4/15/2012
52. By The Babe Unborn 4/15/2012
53. The Song Against Grocers 1/1/2004
54. For A War Memorial 4/15/2012
55. Gloria In Profundis 4/15/2012
56. The New Freethinker 1/1/2004
57. The House Of Christmas 1/1/2004
58. The Sword Of Suprise 1/1/2004
59. The Englishman 1/1/2004
60. The Deluge 1/1/2004
61. The Strange Music 1/1/2004
62. The Towers Of Time 1/1/2004
63. The Convert 1/1/2004
64. The Shakespeare Memorial 1/1/2004
65. The Human Tree 1/1/2004
66. Antichrist, Or The Reunion Of Christendom: An Ode 1/1/2004
67. The Song Of Education 1/1/2004
68. The Black Virgin 1/1/2004
69. An Answer To Frances Cornford 1/1/2004
70. The Unpardonable Sin 1/1/2004
71. The Song Of Right And Wrong 1/1/2004
72. Femina Contra Mundum 1/1/2004
73. The Old Song 1/1/2004
74. The Aristocrat 1/1/2004
75. On The Disastrous Spread Of Aestheticism In All Classes 1/1/2004
76. Eternities 1/1/2004
77. Ecclesiastes 1/1/2004
78. A Cider Song 1/1/2004
79. Who Goes Home? 1/1/2004
80. Wine And Water 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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.

Read the full of The Donkey

The Great Minimum

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

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