A blog by the magazine's editors and contributors
I meant to post this yesterday, but forgot. Perhaps it is not too late.
BY G. K. CHESTERTON
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.
Rev. Joseph A. Komonchak, professor emeritus of the School of Theology and Religious Studies at the Catholic University of America, is a retired priest of the Archdiocese of New York.
Paul Elie comments on Francis' 2 1/2 hour Palm Sunday Mass yesterday. He likens the jubilant crowd there to the people welcoming Christ into Jerusalem, and he worries that it was dangerous for Francis. Was Francis really in danger? Might the Francis Effect come crashing down?
Everything That Rises
"Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet"
One can empathize, even without a shout about one's ears, without palms before one's feet.
Thanks for sharing.
In God's time, nothing ever is too late.
Or so I'd like to believe.
Because he was Chesterton, and, even more so, because he was English with that strange attraction to odd animals, I suspect GKC thought he was writing about a donkey. But the poem can be taken personally.
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