The Sad Turkey Gobbler.

O a fat turkey gobbler once sat on a limb
    And he sighed at the wind, and the wind sighed at him.
But the grief of the gobbler one could not diminish,
    For it was Thanksgiving and he saw his finish.
So the heart of the gobbler was heavy as lead
    And he muttered the words of the poet who said:
"Backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight,
    Make me a boy again, just for to-night!"

Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

Edwin C. Ranck

The County Fair.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

To Poe.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The Next Morning.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The Circus.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

English

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My Life And Death.

(By A. Turkey Gobbler.)


I'm just a turkey gobbler,
    But I've got a word to say
And I'd like to say it quickly
    Before I pass away,
For I will get it in the neck
    Upon Thanksgiving Day.

I cannot keep from thinking
    Of poor Marie Antoinette,
She lost her head completely,
    But this is what I'll get--
They'll knock the stuffin' out o' me
    Without the least regret.

I've just a few days left now
    Before I meet my fate,
For every turkey gets the axe,
    The little and the great.
There never was a turkey born
    Who didn't fill a plate.

Only three days left now,
    Goodness, how time flies!
It brings a sadness to my heart
    And teardrops to my eyes.
Does every turkey feel that w...

Edwin C. Ranck

Thanksgiving Turkey

Valleys lay in sunny vapor,
And a radiance mild was shed
From each tree that like a taper
At a feast stood. Then we said,
"Our feast, too, shall soon be spread,
        Of good Thanksgiving turkey."

And already still November
Drapes her snowy table here.
Fetch a log, then; coax the ember;
Fill your hearts with old-time cheer;
Heaven be thanked for one more year,
        And our Thanksgiving turkey!

Welcome, brothers - all our party
Gathered in the homestead old!
Shake the snow off and with hearty
Hand-shakes drive away the cold;
Else your plate you'll hardly hold
        Of good Thanksgiving turkey.

When the skies are sad and murky,
'Tis a cheerful thing to meet
Round this homely roast of turkey -
Pilgrims, pausing ju...

George Parsons Lathrop

The Turkey And The Ant.

        We blame the mote that dims the eye
        Of other men, whose faults we spy;
        But we ignore the beam that lies
        With stronger strain in one's own eyes.

        A turkey, who grew dull at home,
        Resolved in the wild woods to roam;
        Wearied she was of barn-door food,
        Therefore she chuckled round her brood,
        And said, "My little ones, now follow;
        We'll go and dine in yonder hollow."
        They first upon an ant-hill fell -
        Myriads of negro-ants, pell-mell -
        "O gobble, gobble - here's a treat!
        Emmets are most delicious meat;
        Spare not, spare not. How blest were we,
        Could we here live from poulterers free!
        Accursèd man on turkeys preys,
        ...

John Gay

Turkeys

The turkeys wade the close to catch the bees
In the old border full of maple trees
And often lay away and breed and come
And bring a brood of chelping chickens home.
The turkey gobbles loud and drops his rag
And struts and sprunts his tail and then lets drag
His wing on ground and makes a huzzing noise,
Nauntles at passer-bye and drives the boys
And bounces up and flies at passer-bye.
The old dog snaps and grins nor ventures nigh.
He gobbles loud and drives the boys from play;
They throw their sticks and kick and run away.

John Clare

A Backward Look

As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday,
And lazily leaning back in my chair,
Enjoying myself in a general way -
Allowing my thoughts a holiday
From weariness, toil and care, -
My fancies - doubtless, for ventilation -
Left ajar the gates of my mind, -
And Memory, seeing the situation,
Slipped out in street of "Auld Lang Syne."

Wandering ever with tireless feet
Through scenes of silence, and jubilee
Of long-hushed voices; and faces sweet
Were thronging the shadowy side of the street
As far as the eye could see;
Dreaming again, in anticipation,
The same old dreams of our boyhood's days
That never come true, from the vague sensation
Of walking asleep in the world's strange ways.

Away to the house where I was born!
And there was the selfsame...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Old Man's Counsel.

Among our hills and valleys, I have known
Wise and grave men, who, while their diligent hands
Tended or gathered in the fruits of earth,
Were reverent learners in the solemn school
Of nature. Not in vain to them were sent
Seed-time and harvest, or the vernal shower
That darkened the brown tilth, or snow that beat
On the white winter hills. Each brought, in turn,
Some truth, some lesson on the life of man,
Or recognition of the Eternal mind
Who veils his glory with the elements.

One such I knew long since, a white-haired man,
Pithy of speech, and merry when he would;
A genial optimist, who daily drew
From what he saw his quaint moralities.
Kindly he held communion, though so old,
With me a dreaming boy, and taught me much
That books tell not, and I s...

William Cullen Bryant