Our eighth poem is by Robert Graves (from the
Spanish.)
Joseph and Jesus
As Mary went a-riding up the hill out of view,
the ass was much astonished how like a dove he flew.
Said Jesus unto Joseph, who his soft check did
kiss: ‘There are thorns in your beard, good sir. I asked not for this.’
Then Joseph brought to Jesus hot paps of white
bread which, when it burned that pretty mouth Joseph swallowed in his stead.
May God Bless Always, Women of Faith and Hope by
My Mother Rose.
Created by Katie Robinson
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