 | Miscellaneous poems |  |
175
THANKSGIVING.
Autumn receding, throws aside
Her robe of many a varied dye;
And Winter, in majestic pride,
Advances in the low'ring sky.
The lab'rer in his gran'ry stores
The golden sheaves all safe from spoil;
While from her horn gay Plenty pours
Her treasures to reward his toil.
To solemn temples let us now repair,
And bow in grateful adoration there;
Bid the full strain in hallelujahs rise,
To waft the sacred incense to the skies.
Her robe of many a varied dye;
And Winter, in majestic pride,
Advances in the low'ring sky.
The lab'rer in his gran'ry stores
The golden sheaves all safe from spoil;
While from her horn gay Plenty pours
Her treasures to reward his toil.
To solemn temples let us now repair,
And bow in grateful adoration there;
Bid the full strain in hallelujahs rise,
To waft the sacred incense to the skies.
Now the hospitable board
Groans beneath the rich repast;
All that lux'ry can afford,
Grateful to the eye or taste;
While the orchard's sparkling juice,
And the vintage join their powers;
All that nature can produce,
Bounteous Heav'n bids be ours.
Let us give thanks; yes, yes, be sure,
Send for the widow and the orphan poor;
Give them wherewith to purchase clothes and food;
'Tis the best way to prove our gratitude.
Groans beneath the rich repast;
176
Grateful to the eye or taste;
While the orchard's sparkling juice,
And the vintage join their powers;
All that nature can produce,
Bounteous Heav'n bids be ours.
Let us give thanks; yes, yes, be sure,
Send for the widow and the orphan poor;
Give them wherewith to purchase clothes and food;
'Tis the best way to prove our gratitude.
On the hearth high flames the fire,
Sparkling tapers lend their light;
Wit and genius now aspire
On Fancy's gay and rapid flight;
Now the viol's sprightly lay,
As the moments light advance,
Bids us revel, sport, and play,
Raise the song, or lead the dance.
Come, sportive love, and, sacred friendship, come,
Help us to celebrate our harvest-home;
In vain the year its annual tribute pours,
Unless you grace the scene, and lead the laughing hours.
Sparkling tapers lend their light;
Wit and genius now aspire
On Fancy's gay and rapid flight;
Now the viol's sprightly lay,
As the moments light advance,
Bids us revel, sport, and play,
Raise the song, or lead the dance.
177
Help us to celebrate our harvest-home;
In vain the year its annual tribute pours,
Unless you grace the scene, and lead the laughing hours.
| Miscellaneous poems | |