I AM the little ass of Christ, I carried Him ere He was born, And bore Him to His bitter Tryst Unwilling, that Palm Sunday morn. I was His Mother's servant, I, I carried her from Nazareth, Up to the shining hill-country, To see the Lady Elizabeth. The stones were many in my road, By valleys steeper than a cup, I, trembling for my heavenly Load, Went cat-foot since I held It up. To me the wonderful charge was given, I, even the little ass, did go, Bearing the very weight of Heaven; So I crept cat-foot, sure and slow. Again that night when He was born, I carried my dear burdens twain, And heard dull people's insolent scorn Bidding Them to the night and rain. I knelt beside my Brother Ox, And saw the very Birth! Oh, Love! And awe and wonder! Little folks May see such sights nor die thereof. The chilly Babe we breathed upon, Warmed with our breath the frozen air, Kneeling beside Our Lady's gown, His only comfort, saving her. I am beaten, weary-foot, ill-fed; Men curse me: yet I bear withal Christ's Cross betwixt my shoulders laid. So I am honoured, though I'm small. I served Christ Jesus and I bear His Cross upon my rough grey back. Dear Christian people, pray you, spare The whip, for Jesus Christ His sake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRAGMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 67 by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 65. AL-WAJID by EDWIN ARNOLD STANZAS TO M.P. by BERNARD BARTON VINCENT VAN GOGH by HARRIET R. BEAN THE SURRENDER by JOSEPH BEAUMONT FROM A TRENCH by MAUD ANNA BELL ON THE FUNERAL OF CHARLES I; AT NIGHT, IN ST. GEORGE'S CHAPEL, WINDSOR by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES GLIMPSES OF CHILDHOOD: 4. EARLY LOVES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |