Poem May 14, 1938 Issue

Gardening

FANNY DE GROOT HASTINGS

Let me uproot this acrid herb,
Leaving no tendriled bitterness
To clutch the heart, and choking curb
Its native impulse sown to bless.

I would devote no parcel of
The holy ground of mental loam
To weeds of criticism. Love
Shall keep the verdure of my home,

Consigning rancor's noisome rue
To wither in His timeless light,
That all my garden's residue
May bloom in fragrance and delight;

That its sweet savors may engage
Humility of leaf and stem
With habitude of thyme and sage
That scent the heel that crushes them.

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