The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1905-11-25
THANKSGIVING DAY.

Beatrice oulton in Donahues Maea-
zine.l
The Jack O. Lantern is in the window.
the pumpkins-a golden store-are
piled high in the dooryard. the cram
berries have teen raked from the hogs
and the turkeys are fattening on their
autumn menu, acquiring fine plump
ness and delicscy Of favor Tor the
THANKSGIVING market. The earth has
given boundfully Of its increase. and
while still the tang of its varied fruits
is in the air il is meet that thanks be
offered to Him who ordains seed time
and harvest.
From the harvest festival came the
institution of the national thanksgiv-
ing-the e,ebration Of a service OF
praise. and an occasion az well for
happy family reunions around festive
boards piled high with home!y cheer.
"Ah, on Thanksgiving day, when from
east and from west
From north and from south, come the
pilgrim and guest:
When the gray-haired New Highlander
sees round his board
The cd broken links Of affection re-
stored.
When the care-wearied man seeks his
mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the
girl smiled before.
What moistens the lip and what
brightens the eye?
What calls back The past like the rich
pumpkin pie?
Here is sentiment prettily mingled
with Il due regard for the good things
Of the table. Even the Quaker poet
succumbed 10 the art Of the New Eng
land housewife and found the troFhle
at her skill well worth the tribute OF
verse.
This profoundly religious conceptiou
OF Observation-Disclosures for favors
and resignation to GRIEF and loss an
1iortioned by divine ordinance-is eX-
pressed with exquisite tenderness ny
the Catholic poet, Katherine lyman
Hinkson:
Oh. how good God is that he sends
Stores of unfailing love TO me. !.
And work and prayer and praise OF
friends;
Blackbirds and thrushes in the tree.
And sheepbens in the fields, and roses
And all the sweets of May and June,
And lavender and dew and posies,
And sun and moon.
Oh. how good God is that He sends
Boan-rows in blossom, bees in the
hive,
GRAY dawn and golden evening-en5s.
And a glad heart to be awe;
4 grateful mind and quiet fancies.
shade from the sun and golden Iau-
sizes,
oh. how good God is that He sends
A little child TO he ours,
Mine and my dearest loves. ana TENDS
Our blossom in the sun and showers
And bids his angels still keep near him,
Lest that the little feet should miss,
And wings Of angels still to bear him
Ever in bliss.
Oh. how good God is that He keeps
The child forever and ever well
Above the tempests and the deeps,
In joy no tongue can tell.
Our little lamb of God goes st1aymg
BY daisied meadows meath dappled
skies:
Our little lamb Of God goes playing
Under Gods eyes.
st. Francis sermvla 20 the plrds' WIN
its Lessons of Thanksgiving, has given
inspiration to many beautiful
thought. Ionefellow found in it the
theme of a poem less widely known
than most of his compositions, yet
possessing. perhaps. more spiritual up
lift than any other work Of his pen:
Around Assists convent gate
The birds, Gods poor, who cannon
wait
From moor and mere and darksomeI
wood
Came flocking for their dole of food.
" o brother birds st. Francis said,
Ye come to me and ask for bread
But not with bread alone today
Shall We be fed and sent away
- Ye shall be fed, We happy birds
With mamma of celestial words;
Not mine, though mine they seem TO
be.
Not mine. though they be spoken
through me-
o, doubly are We bound 10 praise
5 The great Creator IN your lays
He giveth you your plumes OF down.
Your crimson hoods, your cloaks o.
brown.
He giveth you your wings TO ny
And breathe a purer air on high'
And careth for Eou everywhere,
Who for yourselves so little care!
With hutter of swift wings and songs
Together rose the feathered threiiss'
And singing scattered far apart;