PrincipledMom™

I have posted a lot of poetry lately. Well, here are some more beautiful poems for the holiday. Enjoy!

At Thanksgiving
by Lucy Larcom

For the wealth of pathless forests,
Whereon no axe may fall;
For the winds that haunt the branches;
The young bird's timid call;
For the red leaves dropped like rubies
Upon the dark green sod;
For the weaving of the forests,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For the sound of water gushingIn bubbling beads of light;For the fleets of snow white liliesFirm anchored out of sight;For the reeds among the eddies;The crystal on the clod;For the flowing of the rivers,I thank Thee, O my God!

For the rosebud's break of beauty
Along the toiler's way;
For the violet's eye that opens
To bless the new born day;
For the bare twigs that in summer
Bloom like the prophet's rod;
For the blossoming of flowers,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the lifting up of mountains,
In brightness and in dread;
For the peaks where snow and sunshine
Alone have dared to tread;
For the dark of silent gorges,
Whence mighty ceders nod;
For the majesty of mountains,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the splendor of the sunsets,
Vast mirrored on the sea;
For the gold fringed clouds that curtain
Heaven's inner mystery;
For the molten bars of twilight,
Where thought leans glad yet awed;
For the glory of the sunsets,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the earth and all its beauty;
The sky and all its light;
For the dim and soothing shadows,
That rest the dazzled sight;
For unfading fields and prairies,
Where sebse in vain has trod;
For the world's exhaustless beauty,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For an eye of inward seeing;
A soul to know and love;
For these common aspirations,
That our high heirship prove;
For the hearts that bless each other
Beneath Thy smile, Thy rod;
For the amaranth saved from Eden,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the hidden scroll, o'erwritten
With one dear name adored;
For the Heavenly in the human,
The spirit in the Word;
For the tokens of Thy presence
Within, above, abroad;
For Thine own great gift of Being
I thank Thee, O my God!

Boys and girls Thanksgiving of 1892
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Never since the race was started,
Had a boy in any clime,
Cause to be so thankful-hearted,
As the boys of present time.

Not a girl in old times living--
Let the world talk as it may--
Found such reasons for Thanksgiving,
As the girls who live to-day!

Grandmas, in their corners sitting,
Toiling till the day grew late,
What knew they with endless knitting,
Of the jolly roller-skate?

Grandpas sitting by the fender,
Reading by the fagGots' blaze,
What knew they of modern splendor
Found in incandescent rays?

Where they toiled in bitter weather,
Braving rain and snow and sleet,
Gathering sticks of wood together,
We have radiators' heat.

But these fruits of modern science
They first planted seed by seed,
In their strength and self-reliance
We may find a noble creed.

With the dawn of great inventions,
Came the anti-warring days.
Men are sick of armed contentions,
God be thanked with heart-felt praise.

Once a boy was trained for fighting,
Now the world is better taught,
'Tis an age when wrongs are righting
By the force of common thought.

Once a girl was trained for sewing,
Spinning, knitting, nothing more.
She must never think of knowing
Aught of things outside her door.

If she soared above her spinning,
If she sought a life more broad,
She was looked upon as sinning
'Gainst the laws of man and God.

Now a girl is taught she's human,
Brain and body, soul and heart--
All are needed by the woman
Who to-day would play her part.

Swift and sure the world advances,
Let the critic carp who may.
God be praised for all the chances
Boys and girls enjoy to-day.

The Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
by Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)

It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;
But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,
When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,
With little Jamie at the foot and grandpa at the head,
The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,
With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.

It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me to-day
We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;
Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;
It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.
It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;
There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,
Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,
Letting the others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.

I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad
To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;
The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,
And whether living far or near they all came trooping in
With shouts of "Hello, daddy!" as they fairly stormed the place
And made a rush for mother, who would stop to wipe her face
Upon her gingham apron before she kissed them all,
Hugging them proudly to her breast, the grownups and the small.

Then laughter rang throughout the home, and, Oh, the jokes they told;
From Boston, Frank brought new ones, but father sprang the old;
All afternoon we chatted, telling what we hoped to do,
The struggles we were making and the hardships we'd gone through;
We gathered round the fireside. How fast the hours would fly--
It seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.
Those were the glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew
When relatives could still be friends and every heart was true.

Giving Thanks
Unknown
For the hay and the corn and the wheat that is reaped,For the labor well done, and the barns that are heaped,For the sun and the dew and the sweet honeycomb,For the rose and the song and the harvest brought home --Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!For the trade and the skill and the wealth in our land,For the cunning and strength of the workingman's hand,For the good that our artists and poets have taught,For the friendship that hope and affection have brought --Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!For the homes that with purest affection are blest,For the season of plenty and well-deserved rest,For our country extending from sea unto sea;The land that is known as the "Land of the Free" --Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving- Anonymous
The year has turned its circle,The seasons come and go.The harvest all is gathered inAnd chilly north winds blow.Orchards have shared their treasures,The fields, their yellow grain,So open wide the doorway - Thanksgiving comes again!

An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
a short story by Louisa May Alcott

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