Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1907-11-28
THANKSGIVING POEM.
Holman =. Day Sends Maine's Greeting
to the Maine Born in the West.

From a recent copy of the Des Moines'
Iowa, Capital we get an interesting ac-
count of the regular fall meeting oil
the Des Moines Society of the Sons
and Daughters of Maine at which an
original poem was received from Hoi-
man F. Day. The Journal is indebted
to the kindness of Mrs. f. II. Langston
of this city for the paper In question
Mrs. LangstOn received it from heI
sister, Mrs. A. ]. Small. whose nus
band is now the president of the Des
Moines society Of Maine people. The
meeting was held at the home OF Mr.
and Mrs. Small and SO former Maine
people were present. An interesting
program was given, consisting in part
Of vocal selections by the Misses Sylvia
Garrison and Georgia Walker.
portion of the evening was given to APP
propriate memorial Observances of the
death of Mr.. Charles H. Morris. ex-
president Of the society, and address
es were given by Mr.. F. w. Craig and
Miss Grace Ballantyne. Mr.. Morris
was q native of Limerick in York
county and went to Iowa about %
wears ago. He was an extensive coal
mine operator and was shot down III
cold blood by a man whose arrest ne
had caused for the illegal sale of
liquor.
The officers of the association We're
reelected for the coming year, and are
as follows: Mr.. A. j. Small, president:
DR.. Ella NJ. Still, first Vice-presldent'
Mrs. F.. w. Chase, second Vice-presi-
dent; Mrs. F. w. Craig, secretary ana
treasurer; Mr.. J. l. Gardiner and Mrs.
w. II. Antes, executive committee.
The home was. decorated with autumn
foliage, and with sprigs Of pine from
the State of Maine, and dainty re-
freshments were served at the close OF
The evening. A feature of the evening
Was the reading of Thanksgiving
poem. sent by Holman F. Day Of this
State who is a personal friend OF MI.
Small. In sending the verses Mr. Day
wrote: "Will the Sons and Daughters
OF Maine, whom Des Moines has gath
cred to itself. accept this word from
Old Home State as though it were
brotherly greeting spoken above
clasped hands in token of the ties that
are never broken between Name
born? l send the lines with my sin
cere regard and earnest wishes for
happy meeting" The poem follows:
Where the council fires sDuttered, where
the Warriers' beacOnS fiared,
There our fathers fought the forests till
shrouded hills were barred;
And the painted tribes were scattered
while the barking of the AK
And the crash of woodland giants fol-
loved fast their fleeing backs.
we have raked their dying embers and
have fed their flames anew,
And the old home hearth is blazing in
the east, my dearS for you!
In the east the lights are dancing, ont
across November's snow,
In the east from our arms are reaching
from the homes that love you So
| IN the east from which you've wandered
driven on by that unrest
That has led the route OF races ever
down 10 seek the west.
TO the eas;, then o, our children, to
your ancient temple door.
Where the sacred spark of FreerOm first
struck fire on this shore,
Core We home our west'ring children!
! 'Tis Thanksgiving Feast once more
| There is welcome at the doorway, there
| is bounty at the board;
| All the Guns are high with plenty and
the cellar vaunts its hOrd.
You are right! The God of Harvests OPP
| ems wide and lavish hands
| Under some more genial heavens Smil-
ing on more fertile lands
| But from off our rocky acres we have
| reaped besides the grain
Thrift and thought, and faith and fervor
earnest heart and steady brain.
| And the frosts that blight our cCrnfeds
! and the drought of bitter days
Have not spoiled the richer harveSts OF
the world sought men We raise.
IT'S the east that planted first-fruits and
Land has reaped since then
| folds of nd cnltprp n II,
our mighty crop Of men
Come. We back, o. Wand'ring children
| 'Tis Thanksgiving Feast again
Though the snow will heap our roof
| trees, underneath its chill YOU
That the warmth can shame the winter
| where the ruddy hearth-lights
| glow.
Lamps of home will shine the brighter
| when the world without is drear
Smiles are sWeeter, love complCter when
| the sober days are here.
| Over yonder in the moonlight humble
mounds of earth are drest
In the mantle Mother Nature spreads
above the patriots rest.
! Are these not the Nations altars-dus,
! to dust. but souls unpent,
| Speaking to us down the ages. mound
and marble eloquent?
Here. o loyal father founders. may thy
! children come again
| To renew their ancient saneness, from
the lusts Of later men.
To our soil. then, o We Grant. with vo,II
| Olden Faith as priest,
Back to that God-whispered justice OF
| the Fathers of the East!
Bring you gifts of fame and manhood
to the old homes awaiting here.
Take cur gifts of loving welcome, proud
| acclaim and golden cheer.
Come We back. o child of East-land. it's