Poem of William Hermanns

                            The Donkey

When Nature thought of patience, she made thee,
Thou beast of burden, slow and poor in mind,
More beaten than caressed by humankind.
In bondage born, no master sets thee free;
The market is thy daily destiny.
With loads of fruit we see thee train behind;
Thy wage is thistles until old and blind
In wayside dust thou sinkest wearily.

Yet. once the throng spread garments in thy way,
Strewed branches, and thy foot touched not a stone;
A holy wonderment transported them.
They saw thee shamble by in dusty gray;
Thy shaggy back that day became a throne
which bore the Savior to Jerusalem

                                        William Hermanns    [P053]