Polk County news. [volume] (Benton, Tenn.) 191?-1983, 1921-11-17
serious and devOut nature, as severa'
Of the stanzas will testify.

! serious and devout nature, as severa
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 signs for daintfes far away.
Beside the bounteous board of homer
And let these affairs. wreathed with
flowers
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 eve
| Thank Thee" by Emerson. 1t 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, devOut
religious spirit pervades Phoebe Cary's
poem on Thanksgiving. 1t is an APP
peal to the gr0wn-ups on this day to
make a trip back to their childhood,
and is marked by the felicitous sim.
plicity of the writer:
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 chiidhood'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 pa
lace in the city, and has creams and
salads, made by a French cook, that
cost q fortune" However, things
didn't quite suit her at her niece's,
and an invitation to an oldfashioned
dinner suits her well.
How l run on. Well, thank you, neigh>
Dor; / see you want to go.
I'm comm to Thanksgivin'; your good
old ways l 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 |
Pumpkin Pies:
So you bid me to Thanksgivin'. Thank |
you. neighbour it is kind
To keep a plain old body like myself SO
much in mind.
Here I've been sittin' all alone. and a |
mist before my eyes,
A-thinkin', like simpleton. on mothers
pumpkin pies.
A toast by Ida II. s. >Noyes is very
appropriate, since it has Thanksgiving
for subject.
For every day of life we're living,
Thanksgiving!
For friends assembled round the board.
Thanks we're giving.
For every blessing. great and small.
Thanks give We all!
While Il was not written especially |
In reference to our national feast of
Keats lode to Autumn
IS generally considered poem of the
season. The first stanza runs:
Season of mlsts and yellow fruitfulness!
close bosom friend of the maturing sun;
with him how to load and
bless
with fruit the vines that round the
thateh leaves run.
TO bend with apples the moss'd cottage
trees,
And All oil fruit with rlpeness to the CORE
TO swell the gourd. and plump the hazel
shells
with n 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'erbrlmmed their
clammy cells.