Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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THANKSGIVING TIME. |
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 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
192
THANKSGIVING TIME.
“Come, let us give thanks,”
Says Governor Banks,
And at once preparation is heard in all ranks.
Many and bright the scenes that are planned,
Many the hearts that with gladness expand,
Many the hopes with fruition at hand,
And the voice of the turkey is heard in the land!
For Thanksgiving Day
Is welcomed alway,
—A heart-warming, genial, glorious season,—
When the feelings, repressed
By traffic's behest,
On one day, at least, for dominion contest,
And strive as of old to be specially blest,
While care is a species of treason;
When plenty and fun and plenty of fun
Mark the glad hours as onward they run
With lots of rhyme and reason.
Says Governor Banks,
And at once preparation is heard in all ranks.
Many and bright the scenes that are planned,
Many the hearts that with gladness expand,
Many the hopes with fruition at hand,
And the voice of the turkey is heard in the land!
For Thanksgiving Day
Is welcomed alway,
—A heart-warming, genial, glorious season,—
When the feelings, repressed
By traffic's behest,
On one day, at least, for dominion contest,
And strive as of old to be specially blest,
While care is a species of treason;
When plenty and fun and plenty of fun
Mark the glad hours as onward they run
With lots of rhyme and reason.
The city shuts up shop for the day,
And oldest and youngest play or pray,
The churches are oped in the ancient way
For preachers to utter whatever they may,
With few to listen to what they say,
While all the chaises and carriages
Are dashing around with merry loads
Of babies dressed in their prettiest modes,
To dump at the doors of kindred abodes,
Or filled with those still happier nodes
Who rush to try that best of codes
Which binds us up in marriages.
And true benevolence outpours,
And wealth disseminates its stores,
To glad the poor and stricken;
With dimming eyes, from tears that start,
The generous ones their cheer impart,
With warm emotion in their heart,
While in their hands is chicken!
And oldest and youngest play or pray,
193
For preachers to utter whatever they may,
With few to listen to what they say,
While all the chaises and carriages
Are dashing around with merry loads
Of babies dressed in their prettiest modes,
To dump at the doors of kindred abodes,
Or filled with those still happier nodes
Who rush to try that best of codes
Which binds us up in marriages.
And true benevolence outpours,
And wealth disseminates its stores,
To glad the poor and stricken;
With dimming eyes, from tears that start,
The generous ones their cheer impart,
With warm emotion in their heart,
While in their hands is chicken!
Now trunks are stowed,
And over the road
That leads to his old far-away abode
The son in his course is bending;
His heart beats high
As that home draws nigh,
And he sees against the distant sky
The village spire ascending;
While many a glance
Is cast askance
Over the road, as the hours advance,
By which he must be wending—
The dear boy Tim,
Or the dear boy Jim,
No matter the name, they look for him,
Their love impatience lending!—
Or 'Liza Jane returns from town,
With her nobby bonnet and silken gown,
And then a hoop to take all down
That may chance to come before her,
Raising the envy of all of those
Not able to get such spacious clo'es,
Who sneer, perhaps, and turn up their nose,
While she takes the eye of the rural beaux,
Who vow that “she's a roarer!”
—Perhaps Aurora is what they mean—
They bow to the magic of crinoline,
And were she goddess or were she queen
They couldn't more adore her.
They swow and snum, and vow and vum,
That they're darned glad she's happened hum,
And go away she shan't, by gum,
For them to so deplore her!
And over the road
That leads to his old far-away abode
The son in his course is bending;
His heart beats high
As that home draws nigh,
And he sees against the distant sky
The village spire ascending;
While many a glance
Is cast askance
Over the road, as the hours advance,
By which he must be wending—
The dear boy Tim,
194
No matter the name, they look for him,
Their love impatience lending!—
Or 'Liza Jane returns from town,
With her nobby bonnet and silken gown,
And then a hoop to take all down
That may chance to come before her,
Raising the envy of all of those
Not able to get such spacious clo'es,
Who sneer, perhaps, and turn up their nose,
While she takes the eye of the rural beaux,
Who vow that “she's a roarer!”
—Perhaps Aurora is what they mean—
They bow to the magic of crinoline,
And were she goddess or were she queen
They couldn't more adore her.
They swow and snum, and vow and vum,
That they're darned glad she's happened hum,
And go away she shan't, by gum,
For them to so deplore her!
Delicious meetings,
Delicious greetings
As saccharine as Harvest Sweetings,
With such affectionate pother!
Where brothers and sisters in fond embrace
Press heart to heart and face to face,
And kisses are given, with unctuous grace,
That threaten almost to smother;
And cousins are kissed with sweet concern,
Who do not pout and spitefully spurn,
But who, when kissed on one cheek, turn
With Christian grace the other!
Delicious greetings
As saccharine as Harvest Sweetings,
With such affectionate pother!
Where brothers and sisters in fond embrace
Press heart to heart and face to face,
And kisses are given, with unctuous grace,
That threaten almost to smother;
And cousins are kissed with sweet concern,
Who do not pout and spitefully spurn,
195
With Christian grace the other!
The mother's tears descend like rain
To welcome her darlings back again;
The thought of their perils has given her pain,
And the father's heart was sad;
But the face is honest, the eye is bright,
And they read the open book aright,
That sin has not eclipsed the light
That made their hearts once glad.
To welcome her darlings back again;
The thought of their perils has given her pain,
And the father's heart was sad;
But the face is honest, the eye is bright,
And they read the open book aright,
That sin has not eclipsed the light
That made their hearts once glad.
The horse in the stall, the dog at the door,
Are loved, and caressed, and kissed once more,
And smiles are joyously beaming,
And the pullets, destined for them to die,
Look on the scene with a cheerful eye,
In sympathetic seeming.
Are loved, and caressed, and kissed once more,
And smiles are joyously beaming,
And the pullets, destined for them to die,
Look on the scene with a cheerful eye,
In sympathetic seeming.
The land is vocal with psalm and prayer,
And joy's glad note sounds everywhere
A festival oblation,
And savory steams like clouds arise,
To tickle the palate and glad the eyes
Of lovers of virtue and pumpkin pies,
Where grave and gay, and dull and wise,
Pay tribute to gustation.
And joy's glad note sounds everywhere
A festival oblation,
And savory steams like clouds arise,
To tickle the palate and glad the eyes
Of lovers of virtue and pumpkin pies,
Where grave and gay, and dull and wise,
Pay tribute to gustation.
Then welcome the day,
As well we may,
That drives from our hearts dull care away,
Renewing the bond
Of affection fond
In hearts where living instincts play,
As crannies are lit by the sun's glad ray.
As well we may,
That drives from our hearts dull care away,
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Of affection fond
In hearts where living instincts play,
As crannies are lit by the sun's glad ray.
And may our hearts in praise expand
Of the blessed God of the sea and land,
Whose ever-bounteous, loving hand
Has placed such blessings at our command,
And given us power to gratefully feel
The good that all our days reveal;
And Governor Banks's
Call for thanks is
One that we cheerfully obey,
And thankful feel Thanksgiving Day.
Of the blessed God of the sea and land,
Whose ever-bounteous, loving hand
Has placed such blessings at our command,
And given us power to gratefully feel
The good that all our days reveal;
And Governor Banks's
Call for thanks is
One that we cheerfully obey,
And thankful feel Thanksgiving Day.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |