Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Thanksgiving blessings to all

The year has turned its circle,
the seasons come and go.
The harvest all is gathered in
and chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
the fields their yellow grain,
so open wide the doorway...
Thanksgiving comes again!

The wider the central brown band on a woolly bear 
caterpillar is, the milder the winter shall be.

When the trees their summer splendor
Change to raiment red and gold,
When the summer moon turns mellow,
And the nights are getting cold; 
When the squirrels hide their acorns, 
And the woodchucks disappear; 
Then we know that it is autumn, 
Loveliest season of the year.
Carol L. Riser 

the winter will be mild if the first
snow falls on unfrozen ground

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain
are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree.
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay. 

The beauties she so wryly sees,
she thinks I have no eye for these
the love of bare November days
but it were vain to tell her so,
before the coming of the snow,
and they are better for her praise.

She talks and I am fain to list.
She's glad the birds are gone away,
she's glad her simple worsted grady
is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
the faded earth, the heavy sky,
the beauties she so wryly sees,
she thinks I have no eye for these
and vexes me for reason why.
Robert Frost

Expect a harsh winter if: 
onion and apple skins and cornhusks are thick and tough
wasp nests are high up in trees 
squirrel nests are big 
rabbits are fat in October and November 
geese migrate earlier 
squirrel tails are very bushy 
nuts and berries are plentiful
pigs gather lots of leaves and straw

How well I know what I mean to do
When the long dark autumn-evenings come:
And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue?
With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life's November too!
I shall be found by the fire, suppose,
O'er a great wise book as beseemeth age,
While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows
And I turn the page, and I turn the page,
Not verse now, only prose!
Robert Browning

Give me the end of the year an' its fun 
when most of the plannin' an' toilin' is done,
bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
let me sit down with the ones I love best.
Hear the old voices still ringin' with song,
see the old faces unblemished by wrong,
see the old table with all of its chairs
an' I'll put soul in my Thanksgivin' prayers.
Edgar Guest

A tingling, misty marvel blew hither in the night, 
and now the little peach-trees are clasped in frozen light. 
Upon the apple-branches an icy film is caught, 
with trailing threads of gossamer in pearly patterns wrought. 
The autumn sun, in wonder, is gayly peering through 
this silver-tissued network across the frosty blue. 
The weather-vane is fire-tipped, the honeysuckle shows 
a dazzling icy splendor, and crystal is the rose. 
Evaleen Stein 

Come, my boys, come
Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd, 
Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd. 
Come, my boys, come 
John Dryden 

A feel of warmth in this place. 
In winter air, a scent of harvest. 
No form of prayer is needed, 
When by sudden grace attended. 
Naturally, we fall from grace. 
Mere humans, we forget what light 
Led us, lonely, to this place. 
John Montague 

Over the river, and through the wood Oh, how the wind doth blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose as over the ground we go
.Lydia Maria Child 

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