Page 40 - Poetry-Country

A Thanksgiving Hymn

“Have you cut the wheat in the blowing fields,
The barley, the oats and rye,
The golden corn and the pearly rice?
For the winter days are nigh.”
“We have reaped them all from shore to shore,
And the grain is safe on the threshing floor.”

“Have you gathered the berries from the vine
And the fruits from the orchard trees,
The dew and the scent from the roses and thyme
In the hive of the honey bees?”
“The peach and the plum and the apple are ours,
And the honey-comb from the scented flowers.

“The wealth of the snowy cotton-field
And the gift of the sugar-cane,
The savory herb and nourishing root—
There has nothing been given in vain,
We have gathered the harvest from shore to shore,
And the measure is full and running o’er.”

Then lift up the head with a song!
And lift up the hands with a gift!
To the ancient giver of all
The spirit of gratitude lift!
For the joy and promise of Spring,
For the hay and clover sweet,
The barley, the rye, and the oats,
The rice and the corn and the wheat,
The cotton and sugar and fruit,
The flowers and the fine honeycomb,
The country, so fair and so free,
The blessing and the glory of home,
“Thanksgiving! thanksgiving! thanksgiving!
Joyfully, gratefully call,
To God, the preserver of men,
The bountiful Father of all.”

—([Philadelphia] Agricultural Almanack, 1894)

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