Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

81. Ecclesiastes 1/1/2004
82. Who Goes Home? 1/1/2004
83. A Hymn 1/1/2004
84. A Prayer In Darkness 1/1/2004
85. Elegy In A Country Churchyard 1/1/2004
86. Americanisation 1/1/2004
87. Lepanto 1/1/2004
88. The Secret People 1/1/2004
89. The Ballad Of The White Horse 1/1/2004
90. A Child Of The Snows 1/1/2004
91. Gold Leaves 1/1/2004
92. The Last Hero 1/1/2004
93. A Ballade Of Suicide 1/1/2004
94. Eternities 1/1/2004
95. The Rolling English Road 1/1/2004
96. The Donkey 1/1/2004

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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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