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

Our National Thanksgiving

All the blessings of the fields,
All the stores the garden yields,
All the plenty summer pours,
Autumn’s rich, o’erflowing stores,
Peace, prosperity and health,
Private bliss and public wealth,
Knowledge with its gladdening streams,
Pure religion’s holier beams —
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.”

~ Author unknown

Thankfulness

We’re thankful for Thy blessings, Lord,
Thy watchful eye above,
For freedom’s bell that rolls for all
In this dear land we love.
We’re thankful, Lord, for useful work,
For measure of good health,
For family ties and friendship dear,
More precious this than wealth.
For all Thy tender mercies, Lord,
For sunshine and for rain,
For golden harvest richly blessed
In yield of fruit and grain.
On this Thanksgiving Day, dear Lord,
We bow in humble prayer.
We’re thankful for Thy blessings, Lord;
Thy gifts are everywhere.

~ Kay Hoffman ~

Thanksgiving …

So many years have passed away
Since Pilgrims on Thanksgiving Day
At Plymouth met with fervent prayer
Their gratitude and food to share.
This is our land-the plains and hills,
The valleys where the sunshine spills
An amber light on beans and corn
Each time a golden day is born.
Today we think of pioneers
Who braved all dangers, met all fears,
Who planted in fertile loam,
Who tamed frontiers to make a home.
For forest-store, for waterways,
For cotton fields, for mountain ore,
For mighty spires we sing our praise.
For scholars with intelligence
Who attained wisdom of the sage,
Who left their heritage to us
And flag of freedom to this age.
We thank Thee, God, for rain and sun,
For peace at frosty winter’s edge,
For harvests and for vintage bells,
For faith and joy in work well done.
The flag we love now flies above;
May faith and virtue keep us strong
As we together sing this song:
“God Bless Thanksgiving Day!”

— An 1840’s Thanksgiving prayer by Stella Craft Tremble

Poetry Friday is at Holly Cupala‘s Friday.

More Thanksgiving -related posts on this blog:

Thanksgiving Bible Study

Thanksgiving devotionals and readings are here.

Some Thanksgiving quotes are here.

More Thanksgiving quotes are here.

Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation is here.

Thanksgiving “funnies” are here.

A “Redneck Thanksgiving” is here.

Thanksgiving poems are here.

I am linking this to Kelli’s Week of Giving Thanks at There’s No Place Like Home — a festival of Thanksgiving posts — poems, quotes, decorations, crafts, recipes, etc.

I don’t remember now how I discovered “Dirge for Two Veterans” by Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, but when I did a few weeks ago I knew I wanted to save it for the Poetry Friday before Veteran’s Day. Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Check It Out.

The last sunbeam
Lightly falls from the finish’d Sabbath,
On the pavement here, and there beyond it is looking,
Down a new-made double grave.

Lo, the moon ascending,
Up from the east the silvery round moon,
Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon,
Immense and silent moon.

I see a sad procession,
And I hear the sound of coming full-key’d bugles,
All the channels of the city streets they’re flooding,
As with voices and with tears.

I hear the great drums pounding,
And the small drums steady whirring,
And every blow of the great convulsive drums,
Strikes me through and through.

For the son is brought with the father,
(In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell,
Two veterans son and father dropt together,
And the double grave awaits them.)

Now nearer blow the bugles,
And the drums strike more convulsive,
And the daylight o’er the pavement quite has faded,
And the strong dead-march enwraps me.

In the eastern sky up-buoying,
The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin’d,
(‘Tis some mother’s large transparent face,
In heaven brighter growing.)

O strong dead-march you please me!
O moon immense with your silvery face you soothe me!
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial!
What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light,
And the bugles and the drums give you music,
And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,
My heart gives you love.