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The Donkey

I saw a donkey

One day old,

His head was too big

For his neck to hold;

His legs were shaky

And long and loose,

They rocked and staggered

And weren't much use.

He tried to gambol

And frisk a bit,

But he wasn't quite sure

Of the trick of it.

His queer little coat

Was soft and grey,

And curled at the neck

In a lovely way.

His face was wistful

And left no doubt

That he felt life needed

Some thinking about.

So he blundered round

In venturesome quest,

And then lay flat

On the ground to rest.

He looked so little and weak

And weak and slim,

I prayed the world

Might be good to him.

Gertrude Hind