The Anvil and the Lamb
Came a day when a man came carrying
What he claimed was a lamb, though anyone
Could see that it was an anvil.
What are you carrying that anvil for?
Those that passed him along the road asked him.
But this man knew that he held in his arms
A newborn lamb. He could feel its heart
Beating, smell the lanolin in its wool.
He'd heard it bleating one evening, he said,
And found it orphaned in a meadow.
He asked everyone he met if the lamb
Was theirs, and for years carried what
He believed he carried up and down that road
Frequented by farmers and thieves.
When he asked one day did the lamb belong
To me, I didn't have the heart to tell him that
It was an anvil, and so told him
No, which only deepened his belief that
It was a lamb.