Elsie M. Koglin
A humble home, a table spread,
Some butter, and enough of bread,
Potatoes and one kind of meat,
A coffee cake for something sweet.
Each head is bowed, the Father prays
“Dear God, we thank Thee for this day,
And that we have enough to eat,
And share with someone down the street.”
Another home – the table is set,
Heavy with food on lace coverlet;
A host of relatives come in,
Begin the feast with hearty din.
There’s turkey, pork, and beef galore;
Folks eat ‘til there’s scarce room for more
“Of pies and cakes, now choose your kind”
“I’ll have some pumpkin!” “Apple’s mine!”
The host and hostess were much praised,
But to the Giver no one raised
His voice a prayer of thanks to say –
And they call that Thanksgiving Day!
The more or less does not define
The soul most thankfully inclined;
That soul who loves his God the more,
Finds something to be thankful for.