THE PRODIGAL by LOUISE AYRES GARNETT

God has such a splendid way
Of launching his unchallenged yea:

Of giving sphery grapes their sheen;
Of painting trees and grasses green;

Of crooning April rains that we
May wash us in simplicity;

Of swinging little smiling moons
Beyond the reach of noisy noons;

Of storing in the honey bee
The whole of life's epitome.

God has such a splendid way
Of tempting beauty out of clay,

And from the scattered dusts that sleep
Summoning men who laugh and weep;

And, by and by, of letting death
Draw into space our thread of breath.

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