An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving

There is nothing like an old fashioned Thanksgiving, friend and family gathered round, blessings that abound. Giving thanks for all you have and all you love, praising God who is above! Edgar A. Guest's poem does just that - it reminds us of days gone by, of family gatherings, of truly an old fashioned Thanksgiving!

Being old fashioned is a positive thing, in today's culture it is sometimes put down. Let this poem give you thoughts to think about when it comes to being old fashioned! Thanksgiving is a great time of the year to celebrate being old fashioned, to recognize the values that our ancestors have passed down to us. Looking for more thanksgiving poems, then you can find more here - Thanksgiving Poems.

Famous Poems    /   An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving

The Old Fashioned Thanksgiving
Poet: Edgar A. Guest

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.

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Another poem by Edgar A. Guest about Thanksgiving and the kids coming home.

A Coming Reunion
Poet: Edgar A. Guest

Jim's made good in the world out there, an' Kate has a man that's true,
No better, of course, than she deserves; she's rich, but she's happy, too;
Fred is manager, full-fledged now - he's boss of a big concern
An' I lose my breath when I think sometimes of the money that he can earn;
Clever - the word don't mean enough to tell what they really are.
Clever, an' honest an' good an' kind - if you doubt me, ask their Ma.

Proud of 'em! Well, I should say we are, an' we have a right to be.
Some are proud to have one child, an' I am proud of three!
That's all the honor a fellow needs, why Ma an' I often say
There isn't a king or a queen on earth as proud as we are today;
Three babies off in the world out there, all honest an' kind an' true,
That's something to brag of when you are old an' your journey is almost through.

We've stretched the table out a bit, the way that it used to be,
When we were younger - an' here's Ma's chair, an' there is a place for me;
An' there's a chair for our little Kate an' one for the man she wed.
An' yonder, just to the left of Ma, is a place for our baby Fred,
An' Jim, the eldest, will sit by me - they're comin' Thanksgiving day
To sit once more where they used to sit before they went away.

They ain't ashamed of the old, old place, an' they ain't ashamed of me,
An' they're just as proud of their dear old Ma as ever they used to be;
They've got rich friends in the city now, an' there's nothing that's fine they lack,
But their hearts still stay with us here at home, and they joy in the comin' back.
So we've stretched the table out a bit to the length that it was when they
Were youngsters here in the home with us. They're comin' Thanksgiving day.

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