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John Greenleaf Whittier
And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain!
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John Greenleaf Whittier
Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest, When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before. What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie?
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John Keble
And taught by thee the Church prolongs Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.
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Will Carleton
Thanksgiving-day, I fear, If one the solemn truth must touch, Is celebrated, not so much To thank the Lord for blessing o'er, As for the sake of getting more!
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Will Carleton
I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and new.
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