Poem August 6, 1949 Issue

CANA

Winthrop Pitt Tryon

You saw the water redding,
Traveler, at Cana?
Witnessed the change,
Yea? Nay?

Assured,
Desert-sick and traffic-spent,
I brought my caravan
To anchor
In that fair haven—
Rest dearly earned.

More I could unravel here,
How virtue and vim
Returned
At very sound of him
Bidding the servants arrange
That the ruler of the feast
Might partake.

Then, not least,
For outcome and event:
I left the wedding—
Rancor,
Heartache,
Cured.

Winthrop Pitt Tryon

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