Let Us Give Thanks.

    If we have lived another year
And, counting friends by regiments
Who share our love and confidence,
        Find no more broken ranks,
        For this let us give thanks.

    If, since the last Thanksgiving-time,
Have we been blessed with strength and health,
And added to our honest wealth,
        Nor lost by broken banks,
        For this would we give thanks.

    If through adversity we trod,
Yet with serene and smiling face,
And trusted more to saving grace
        Than charlatans and cranks,
        For this let us give thanks.

    If we have somehow worried through
The ups and downs along life's track,
And still undaunted can look back
        And smile at Fortune's pranks,
        For this would we give thanks.

    If every page in our account
With God and man is fairly writ,
We care not who examines it,
        With no suspicious blanks,
        For this let us give thanks.

Hattie Howard

Hattie Howard is recognized for her significant contributions to 19th-century American poetry. Her work, characterized by its wit and lyrical quality, often explored themes of nature, love, and social issues. She had a unique voice that resonated with many of her contemporaries and continues to be appreciated for its depth and artistry.

Hattie Howard

If.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

The Summer House.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

Be Courteous.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

Lightning-bugs.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Let Us Give Thanks

For the courage which comes when we call,
While troubles like hailstones fall;
For the help that is somehow nigh,
In the deepest night when we cry;
For the path that is certainly shown
When we pray in the dark alone,
    Let us give thanks.

For the knowledge we gain if we wait
And bear all the buffets of fate;
For the vision that beautifies sight
If we look under wrong for the right;
For the gleam of the ultimate goal
That shines on each reverent soul:
    Let us give thanks.

For the consciousness stirring in creeds
That love is the thing the world needs;
For the cry of the travailing earth
That is giving a new faith birth;
For the God we are learning to find
In the heart and the soul and the mind:
    Let us give thanks.
<...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thanksgiving.

Nature, erewhile so marvelously lovely, is bereft
    Of her supernal charm;
And with the few dead garlands of departed splendor left,
    Like crape upon her arm,
    In boreal hints, and sudden gusts
    That fan the glowing ember,
    By multitude of ways fulfills
    The promise of November.

Upon the path where Beauty, sylvan priestess, sped away,
    Lies the rich afterglow
Of Indian Summer, bringing round the happy holiday
    That antedates the snow:
    The glad Thanksgiving time, the cheer,
    The festival commotion
    That stirs fraternal feeling from
    The mountains to the ocean.

O Hospitality! unclose thy bounty-laden hand
    In generous dealing, where
Is gathered in reunion each long-severed household band,
    And ...

Hattie Howard

Thanksgiving.

    Let us be thankful - not only because
        Since last our universal thanks were told
    We have grown greater in the world's applause,
        And fortune's newer smiles surpass the old -

    But thankful for all things that come as alms
        From out the open hand of Providence: -
    The winter clouds and storms - -the summer calms -
        The sleepless dread - the drowse of indolence.

    Let us be thankful - thankful for the prayers
        Whose gracious answers were long, long delayed,
    That they might fall upon us unawares,
        And bless us, as in greater need, we prayed.

    Let us be thankful for the loyal hand
        That love held out in welcome to our own,
    When love and only love could understand
        The ne...

James Whitcomb Riley

Thanksgiving

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 labo...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thanksgiving

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 splendour,
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 l...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Song Of Thanks

For the sun that shone at the dawn of spring,
For the flowers which bloom and the birds that sing,
For the verdant robe of the gray old earth,
For her coffers filled with their countless worth,
For the flocks which feed on a thousand hills,
For the rippling streams which turn the mills,
For the lowing herds in the lovely vale,
For the songs of gladness on the gale, -
From the Gulf and the Lakes to the Oceans' banks, -
Lord God of Hosts, we give Thee thanks!

For the farmer reaping his whitened fields,
For the bounty which the rich soil yields,
For the cooling dews and refreshing rains,
For the sun which ripens the golden grains,
For the beaded wheat and the fattened swine,
For the stallèd ox and the fruitful vine,
For the tubers large and cotton white,

Edward Smyth Jones