Poem: “The Mule”

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The
Mule

Purple, purple,
Purple, pink,
In evergreen
The candles sink.

Candle’s age?
One thousand yeared,
With four four-thousand
‘Fore He appeared.

Each Sunday four
In front of Yule
When she arrived
Upon a mule.

A revolution
Round the stall,
Till suddenly
On knees were all!

Like priest incensing
Hallowed altar
To bear her Son
All kneel, none falter.

Firm, determined,
Burdened-beast
With veins of gold,
Great stubborn priest!

 Hilary M. Flanery

 

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