BW47: Happy Thanksgiving

 

Happy Sunday! Happy Thanksgiving from our family to yours. We have much to be grateful for and remember this week as our family gathers together this week to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries and those who have gone on to eternal rest. I am also thankful for each and every one of you in our 52 Books family of readers.

Thanksgiving Delights

By

Joanna Fuchs

On Thanksgiving Day we're thankful for

Our blessings all year through,

For family we dearly love,

For good friends, old and new.

For sun to light and warm our days,

For stars that glow at night,

For trees of green and skies of blue,

And puffy clouds of white.

We're grateful for our eyes that see

The beauty all around,

For arms to hug, and legs to walk,

And ears to hear each sound.

The list of all we're grateful for

Would fill a great big book;

Our thankful hearts find new delights

Everywhere we look!

Our post brought to us by the letter F for facts and fabulous fables.

BW47: Happy Thanksgiving

 

Happy Sunday! Did you know today is absurdity day so do something silly. The 21st is World Hello day so go out and say hello to people. The 22nd is Go for a Ride day so explore.  The 23rd is National Espresso day so fix yourself a fabulous cup. The 24th is Thanksgiving so eat lots of turkey. The 25th is either Black Friday or Buy nothing day so do or don’t, it’s up to you. Whispers – go buy lots of things.  *wink*   We are celebrating this week in our household too with my sister and brother in law’s 44th anniversary, hubby’s brother’s 67th birthday, my 63rd birthday, plus Thanksgiving. We have much to be thankful for.

A Song for Merry Harvest

By 

Eliza Cook 

Bring forth the harp, and let us sweep its fullest, loudest string.

The bee below, the bird above, are teaching us to sing

A song for merry harvest; and the one who will not bear

His grateful part partakes a boon he ill deserves to share.

The grasshopper is pouring forth his quick and trembling notes;

The laughter of the gleaner’s child, the heart’s own music floats.

Up! up! I say, a roundelay from every voice that lives

Should welcome merry harvest, and bless the God that gives.

The buoyant soul that loves the bowl may see the dark grapes shine,

And gems of melting ruby deck the ringlets of the vine;

Who prizes more the foaming ale may gaze upon the plain,

And feast his eye with yellow hops and sheets of bearded grain;

The kindly one whose bosom aches to see a dog unfed

May bend the knee in thanks to see the ample promised bread.

Awake, then, all! ’tis Nature’s call, and every voice that lives

Shall welcome merry harvest, and bless the God that gives.

Happy Thanksgiving! 

A to Z and Back Again Letter and Word of the Week are F and Foresight.

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BW47: Song of Thanksgiving by Will Carleton

 

Song of Thanksgiving

(to the air - Portuguese Hymn)

Poems for Young Americans

by

Will Carleton 

We thank thee, O Father, for all that is bright--

the gleam of the day and the stars of the night;

The flowers of our youth, and the fruits of our prime,

And blessings e'er marching the pathway of time.

We thank thee, O Father, for all this is drear--

The sob of the tempest -- the flow of the tear;

For never in blindness, and never in vain,

Thy mercy permitted a sorrow or pain.

We thank thee, O Father, for song and for feast--

The harvest that glowed, and the wealth that increased;

For never a blessing encompassed thy child,

But thou in thy mercy looked downward and smiled.

We thank thee, O Father for all! for the power

Of aiding each other in life's darkest hour;

The generous heart, and the bountiful hand,

And all the soul-help that sad souls understand.

We thank thee, O Father--for days yet to be --

For hopes that our future will call us to thee:

That all our eternity form, through thy love,

One Thanksgiving Day in the mansions above. 

**Copyright 1910 Every Where Publishing. 

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Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 115. Luigi Vampa’s Bill of Fare

Chapter 116. The Pardon

Chapter 117. The Fifth of October

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BW47: Happy Thanksgiving

Courtesy of Mommy's Playbook

Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours.   I  have much to be grateful for and remember this week as our family gathers together this week to celebrate  birthdays, anniversaries and those who have gone on to eternal rest.  I am also thankful for each and every one of you who has joined our 52 Book a Week family of readers.  And yes, I'm thankful for books.  

And since we all have a cornucopia of books, read a book from your shelves or perhaps from the library this week: 

• Has Thanksgiving in the title or any variation of thanks
• about gratitude
• has Thursday or the number 23 in the title 
• Any of the symbols or synonyms of Thanksgiving
• with Thanksgiving as the theme
• with a turkey on the cover
• a book with food and/or beverage on the cover
• with a cornucopia on the cover 
• any of the colors of the fall harvest
• a book about food or drink
• a book that takes place in England or New England States - Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island

Have fun following rabbit trails. What are you grateful for this week?

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BW47: Happy Thanksgiving

I'm Thankful for You

By 

Joanna Fuchs

Thanksgiving is the appointed time

for focusing on the good in our lives.

In each of our days,

we can find small blessings,

but too often we overlook them,

choosing instead to spend our time

paying attention to problems.

We give our energy

to those who cause us trouble

instead of those who bring peace.

Starting now,

let's be on the lookout

for the bits of pleasure in each hour,

and appreciate the people who

bring love and light to everyone

who is blessed to know them.

You are one of those people.

On Thanksgiving,

I'm thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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BW48: Happy Thanksgiving

 Thanksgiving 

By 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox  (1896)

 

We walk on starry fields of white
   And do not see the daisies;
For blessings common in our sight
   We rarely offer praises.
We sigh for some supreme delight
   To crown our lives with splendor,
And quite ignore our daily store
   Of pleasures sweet and tender.

Our cares are bold and push their way
   Upon our thought and feeling.
They hang about us all the day,
   Our time from pleasure stealing.
So unobtrusive many a joy
   We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives
   And conquers if we let it.

There’s not a day in all the year
   But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
   To brim the past’s wide measure.
But blessings are like friends, I hold,
   Who love and labor near us.
We ought to raise our notes of praise
   While living hearts can hear us.

Full many a blessing wears the guise
   Of worry or of trouble.
Farseeing is the soul and wise
   Who knows the mask is double.
But he who has the faith and strength
   To thank his God for sorrow
Has found a joy without alloy
   To gladden every morrow.

We ought to make the moments notes
   Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;
The hours and days a silent phrase
   Of music we are living.
And so the theme should swell and grow
   As weeks and months pass o’er us,
And rise sublime at this good time,
   A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

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BW48: Happy Thanksgiving

November Evening  

by 

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.

Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,
Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.

Watchful and stirless the fields as if not unkindly holding
Harvested joys in their clasp, and to their broad bosoms folding
Baby hopes of a Spring, trusted to motherly keeping,
Thus to be cherished and happed through the long months of their sleeping.

Silent the woods are and gray; but the firs than ever are greener,
Nipped by the frost till the tang of their loosened balsam is keener;
And one little wind in their boughs, eerily swaying and swinging,
Very soft and low, like a wandering minstrel is singing.

Beautiful is the year, but not as the springlike maiden
Garlanded with her hopes­rather the woman laden
With wealth of joy and grief, worthily won through living,
Wearing her sorrow now like a garment of praise and thanksgiving.

Gently the dark comes down over the wild, fair places,
The whispering glens in the hills, the open, starry spaces;
Rich with the gifts of the night, sated with questing and dreaming,
We turn to the dearest of paths where the star of the homelight is gleaming. 

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