Middletown transcript., 1921-11-19
serious and devout nature, as several
Of the stanzas will testify.

OF the StanZaS will testify.
Once more the liberal year laughs out
Ger richer stores than gems of gold;
Once more with harvest song and shou
Is Natures bloodless triumph told.
Who murmurs at his lot today?
Who scorns his native fruit and bloom
Or sighs for dainties far away,
Beside the bounteous board of home?
And let these affairs. wreathed will
And piled with fruits awake again
Thanksgiving for the golden hours.
The early and the latter rain!
One of the simplest and most beau
tiful of Thanksgiving poems is 1--WE
Thank Thee" by Emerson. It runs:
For flowers that bloom about our feet:
For tender grass, SO fresh. so sweet;
For song of birds and hum Of bee;
For all things fair we hear or see.
Father In heaven, we thank Thee.
For blue Of stream and blue Of sky:
For pleasant shade Of branches high:
For fragrant air and cooling breeze;
For beauty of the blooming trees.
Father in heaven, we thank Thee.
AS in most of her poems, a devout
religious spirit pervades Phoebe Cary's
poem on Thanksgiving. It is an ap.
peal to the grown-ups on this day to
make trip back to their childhood,
and is marked by the felicitous sim.
plicity Of the writer:
o men, grown sick with toll and care.
Leave for while the crowded mart
o women, sinking with despair.
Weary of limb and faint of heart,
Forget your years today and come
As children back to childhood's home.
Following again the winding rills,
Go to the places where you went
When, climbing up the summer hills.
In their green laps you sat content
And softly leaned your head to rest
On Natures calm and peaceful breast.
Then the old lady of the poem goes
ON to tell that she has just come from
Sarah's, who lives in sort Of q pa
lace in the city, and has creams and
salads, made by a French cook, that
COSL 1OIIullC. 11OWctC1S
didn't quite suit her at her niece's,
and an invitation to an old-fashioned
Thanksgiving dinner suits her well.
How run on. Well, thank you. neigh.
Dor: see you want to go.
I'm comm to Thanksgivin': your good
old ways I know;
An my mouth waters; dear old friend
there's tears in these dim eyes,
For 1 shall taste the flavor of mothers
pumpkin pies.
Another poetess, Mrs. Margaret
Sangster, wrote this verse on the
."Thanksgivin' Pumpkin Pies:
So you bid me to Thanksgivin'. Thanh
you, neighbor; 1t is kind
To keep plain old body like myself sc
much in mind.
Here I've been sittin' all alone, and .
mist before my eyes.
A-thinkin', like simpleton, on mothers
pumpkin pies.
A toast by Ida E.. S. Noyes is very
appropriate, since it has Thanksgiving
for subject.
For every day Of life were living,
Thanksgiving!
For friends assembled round the board
Thanks we're giving.
For every blessing, great and small.
Thanks give we all!
While it was not written especially
in reference to our national feast of
Thanksgiving, Keats "Ode to Autumn
is generally considered poem Of the
season. The first stanza runs:
Season of mists and yellow fruitfulness
Close bosom friend of the maturing sun
Conspiring with him how to load anI
bless
with fruit the vines that round the
thatch-eaves run.
ro bend with apples the moss'd cottage
trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core
To swell the gourd. and plump the haze
shells
with a sweet kernel; to set budding more
And still more, later flowers for the bees
Until they think warm days will never
cease.
For summer has o'erbrimmed theb
clammy cells.