.....at the beginning of Holy Week:
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 devilís 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.
Oh, I do so love Mr. Chesterton.