Poet: Douglas Malloch
When sheaves are stacked in bounteous
On summer's fertile plain,
When he who gleaned the treasure sleeps
And dreams of garnered grain,
The air grows warm, the night grows still -
A memory of June -
And slowly o'er the distant hill
Ascends the harvest moon.
It bathes the sheaves in silver floods
Of light of heavenly birth,
It lights anew the fields and woods.
It glorifies the earth.
Forgotten now the winter's snow,
The summer's glaring sun.
And heaven above and world below
Are mellowed into one.
So, when the days of toil are o'er
And harvest days are here.
Thanksgiving comes with bounteous store -
The moonrise of the year.
Its rays reveal the blessings sent
To cheer our dreary ways.
And heartaches old and discontent
Are mellowed into praise.
Thanksgiving Poems
Poet: Wilhelmina Stitch
To each his song of thankfulness; each heart its song of praise;
and some will think of fertile fields, of golden wheat and maize;
and some will think of clinking gold, of solid pompous wealth;
and some will think of Love's high gift, and some will think of health.
But this my song of thankfulness, and this my song of praise—
thank God for all the friendly books, for every magic phrase;
for all the clever laughing books; for books that make one weep;
for books one reads to little folks that they may sweetly sleep.
To each his song of thankfulness; for me this song of praise—
thank God for all the lilting books, the rhythmic, glowing lays;
for all the rich romantic books; for books like gentle hands;
for books that take us on winged words to spirit-healing lands!
Poet: David V. Bush
For harvest white, for bounteous yields,
For happy land at peace with all,
For broad prairie and fertile fields,
For warm sunshine and much rain fall,
For age of wonders; this our lot:
For great invention and modern banks,
For blessings now and those forgot;
O Lord of Host we offer thanks.
Thanksgiving Prayers
Poet: Eugene Field
There is a dawning in the sky
Which doth a world of fate imply,
And on each casual passing face
A look expectant you may trace.
These signs the veteran turkey sees
And with a deep and mournful sigh,
He calls his numerous family nigh
And murmurs, pointing to the trees,
"Roost high, my little ones, roost high! "
more Happy Thanksgiving Quotes
Poet: Patience Strong
We're very quick to voice complaints, and grumble with a frown,
If things go wrong and all our castles crash and tumble down.
We air our little grievances, when we come home at night -
And in that frame of mind you find that nothing turns out right...
If only we would make a list - a new one every day-
Of all the blessings we receive as we go on our way -
We'd never reach the end of it - you'd be surprised to find,
How many lovely little things would crowd into your mind....
God pours His blessings from about - but we're to blind to see -
And so we are the victims of our own stupidity...
We fret our little lives away - we week and doubt and grieve -
If only we would lift our hands and gratefully receive -
The blessings He bestows on us if we but watch and pray -
And look beyond the clouds to see the glory of each day.
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....
Read the entire poem An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving
Poet: James Henry Thomas
This day which we now celebrate,
We know, did not originate
In these gay times; for pleasures hold
The highest place with young and old.
Nor in the nineteenth century,
When the whole world progressivelyv
Moved on, and new inventions made.
For which men have been duly paid.
When success to the Pilgrims came,
They solemnized this day and name
By thanking God for blessings past,
And praying him that they might last.
They left their homes across the sea.
And came here, where they could be free
To serve the Lord in their own way;
They would not England's laws obey.
In sixteen hundred twenty-one,
After much needed work was done,
Realizing the progress made.
They met together, sang and prayed.
'Twas after the harvest had past;
That these good folks planned a repast.
They did not mourn, nor were they sad.
But they were happy, gay and glad.
They went to church and sang and prayed,
And there to God their homage paid;
They laughed and feasted all day long,
And sang a new thanksgiving song.
Nor were they selfish with their joys,
And they made not deceitful noise,
But welcomed Indians to their feast,
From the greatest to the least.
From this let us a lesson take,
And do not our God forsake;
But when Thanksgiving comes around,
Let's worship Him with joyful sound.
Thanksgiving comes, Thanksgiving goes,
Who'll see the next? Nobody knows.
But let us all thank God that we
Are living now, and this one see.
Thank God from whom all blessings flow,
Thank Him, all creatures here below;
Thank Him above, ye heavenly host;
Thank Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Thanksgiving Wishes
Poet: John Kendrick Bangs
For summer rain, and winter's sun,
For autumn breezes crisp and sweet;
For labors doing, to be done,
And labors all complete;
For April, May, and lovely June,
For bud, and bird, and berried vine;
For joys of morning, night, and noon,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!
For loving friends on every side;
For children full of joyous glee;
For all the blessed Heavens wide,
And for the sounding sea;
For mountains, valleys, forests deep;
For maple, oak, and lofty pine;
For rivers on their seaward sweep,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!
For light and air, for sun and shade,
For merry laughter and for cheer;
For music and the glad parade
Of blessings through the year;
For all the fruitful earth's increase,
For home, and life, and love divine,
For hope, and faith, and perfect peace,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!
