The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1921-11-24

NJ giving day reminds US of spir- Y
Y ituaI values. \
y
Then thanks for the present, none
sweeter nor better
Fer smoked from an oven or circled =
platter.
Fairer hands never wrought at pastry
more fine,
Brighter eyes never watched Ger its bak-
ing than thine;
And the prayer which my mouth is too
full to express
Swells my heart that thy shadow may
never grow less;
That the days OF thy lot may be strength
ened below,
And the fame of thy worth, like the
pumpkin vine. grow
And thy life be as sweet and it's last sun
set sky
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own pump
kin pie.
The poem, For an Autumn Festi-
val" by the same author, is of a more
serious and devout nature, as several
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 shout
Is Natures bloodless triumph told.
Who murmurs at his lot today?
Who scorns his native fruit and bloom:
Or signs for dainties far away,
Beside the bounteous board of home?
And let thes. affairs, wreathed with
And piled with fruits awake again
Thanksgiving for the golden hours,
The early and the latter raini
One of the simplest and most beau
tiful of Thanksgiving poems Is I'VE
Thank Thee" by Emerson. 1t n
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. 1t is an APP
peal to the grOwn-ups on this day to
make a 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 a 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 homo.
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 hat she has just come from
Sarah's, who lives in a sort of a pa I
ace in the city, and has creams and
made by a French cook, that
cost a fortune" However, things
iidn't quite suit her at her niece's,
an invitation to an old-fashioned
Thanksgiving dinner suits her well.
low I run on. Well. thank you, neigh
Dor; I see you want to go.
IN comm to Thanksgivin': your good
old ways l know;
my mouth waters; dear old friend.
there's tears in these dim eyes,
FOR l shall taste the flavor of mothers
pumpkin pies.
Another poetess, Mrs. Margaret
'angster, wrote this verse on the
Thanksgivin' Pumpkin Pies:
o you bid me to Thanksgivin'. Thank
you. neighbor; it is kind
o keep a plain old body like myself 30
much in mind.
Iere Nv been sittin' all alone, and a
mist before my eyes,
-thinkin', like a simpleton, on mothers
pumpkin pies.
A toast by Ida e. S. Noyes Is very
appropriate, since it has Thanksgiving
n a subject.
or every day Of life we're living,
Thanksgiving
or friends ssembled round the board
Thanks we're giving.
or every blessing, great and small,
Thanks give we all!
While 1t was not written especially
reference to u national feast Of
thanksgiving, Keats lode to Autumn
generally considered a poem Of the
The first stanza runs: T.
ason of mists and yellow fr%uitfulness!
ose bosom friend Of the maturing sun;
with him how to load and
bless
it'll fruit the vines that round the
thatch-eaves run.
bend with apples the moss'd cottage
trees,
Id fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
swell the gourd, and plump the hazel
shells
it'll a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
I'd still more, later flowers for the bees,
It'll they think warm days will never
cease,
r summer has o'erbrimmed their