Poem March 11, 1939 Issue

The Prodigal

VERNE TAYLOR BENEDICT

He took my shabby cloak and brought
A shining one instead.
He put a ring upon my hand:
Come in the house, He said.

He smoothed my tangled locks and placed
New sandals on my feet:
Within, my son, there waits for thee
Enough, and more, to eat.

And I who would have eaten husks
Among the greedy swine,
Found there within my Father's house
All that had once been mine.

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