Poem August 20, 1955 Issue

A WATERED GARDEN

Jeremiah 31:12

Carol Earle Chapin

My consciousness was barren ground, a waste
Where nothing flourished but a spurious crop
Of false belief. I could not seem to taste
The goodness of my God; I could not drop
The heaviness or stir the parching hollow
Of thought from error's grip. At last I prayed—
I lifted up a willing heart to follow
The inspiration that is never stayed
By aught or anyone, because it springs
From God Himself as naturally as dew
Descends upon the grass. Now error clings
No more, and consciousness, all fresh and new,
Begins to drink from Spirit's source: I find
A buoyant radiant reign of love in Mind.

Carol Earle Chapin

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