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The Donkey 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.

America By Claude McKay Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth, Stealing my breath of life, I will confess I love this cultured hell that tests my youth. Her vigor flows like tides into my blood, Giving me strength erect against her hate, Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood. Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state, I stand within her walls with not a shred Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer. Darkly I gaze into the days ahead, And see her might and granite wonders there, Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand, Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.