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It may be I am getting old
and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years
the days I loved so well
But thinking of them now I wish
somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day
like those of long ago
When all the family gathered round
a table richly spread
With little Jamie at the foot
and grandpa at the head
The youngest of us all to greet
the oldest with a smile
With mother running in and out
and laughing all the while.
It may be I'm old-fashioned
but it seems to me to-day
We're too much bent on having fun
to take the time to pray
Each little family grows up
with fashions of its own
It lives within a world itself
and wants to be alone
It has its special pleasures
its circle, too, of friends
There are no get-together days
each one his journey wends
Pursuing what he likes the best
in his particular way
Letting the others do the same
upon Thanksgiving Day.
I like the olden way the best
when relatives were glad
To meet the way they used to do
when I was but a lad
The old home was a rendezvous
for all our kith and kin
And whether living far or near
they all came trooping in
With shouts of "Hello, daddy!"
as they fairly stormed the place
And made a rush for mother
who would stop to wipe her face
Upon her gingham apron before
she kissed them all
Hugging them proudly to her breast,
the grownups and the small.
Then laughter rang throughout the home, and
Oh, the jokes they told
From Boston, Frank brought new ones
but father sprang the old
All afternoon we chatted
telling what we hoped to do
The struggles we were making
and the hardships we'd gone through
We gathered round the fireside
How fast the hours would fly ...
It seemed before we'd settled down
'twas time to say good-bye
Those were the glad Thanksgivings
the old-time families knew
When relatives could still be friends
and every heart was true.
~Edgar Albert Guest~
 
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