Thanksgiving Ode, November 15th, 1888.
By James McIntyre
September came and with it frost
The season's pasture it seemed lost,
And the wondrous yield of corn
Of its green beauty it was shorn.
Frost it came like early robber,
But gentle rains came in October,
Which were absorbed by grateful soil;
With green once more the pastures smile.
And cows again are happy seen
Enjoying of the pastures green,
And flow of milk again they yield
From the sweet feed of grassy field.
And we have now a fine November,
Warmer far than in September;
The apple, which is queen of fruits,
Was a good crop and so is roots.
The rains they did replenish springs,
And it gratitude to each heart brings,
When we reflect on bounteous season,
For grateful feelings all have reason.