Poem February 12, 1938 Issue

The Garden of Thought

EDITH SHAW BROWN

All labor would be more than joy,
Mused one who held her garden dear,
If I could keep my blossoms clear
Of choking weeds that would destroy.

My task to know in this dense mass
Which is the tare, and which the flower,
And make into a lovely bower
This tangle wild of growth and grass.

She rid her garden bed of one
All too familiar spreading blight,
And found her blooms a lovely sight
When this one enemy was gone.

One weed of thought, too common far,
Must be uprooted that the might
Of Love's all-presence come to light,
Whose grace no erring sense can mar.

Does hatred lurk within my thought?
When I have cast it out—lo, there
Springs love and love alone, so fair;
Full nourished in the selfsame spot.

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February 12, 1938

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