IF I was like St. Francis, As no such thing am I, I'd give to folk of Heaven A name to call me by, The Ass of Christ, my master In lands beyond the sky. If I could bear as meekly Stumbling uphill my load, As he, my four-foot brother, Inured to curse and rod, 'Twould not so ill beseem me To be the Ass of God. If I could stand so patient, In scourging wind and rain, And bear so uncomplaining The bitter ways of men; To be the Ass of Heaven Would be my glory then. But, I, so cold, so froward, So fain of my own will, Hating the load I carry, Aware of every hill! Make me like this small brother, Kind and forgiving still! If like this honest brother I bore the blame and shame, The Cross between my shoulders To show Whose ass I am, The folk of Heaven might hail me The Ass of Christ by name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO THE WINDS by BERNARD BARTON FRIENDSHIP by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS THE PITCHER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN LINES WRITTEN IN ROUSSEAU'S LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN. by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |