Now the Harvest moon is shining
In the blue of Heaven‘s dome.
And within this hall of peace and plenty
We have met for Harvest Home.
Here we sing our Harvest Home,
Our abundant Harvest Home;
And with songs of joy and glad Thanksgiving,
Celebrate our Harvest Home.
Time.
We are at one, my children, one and all
Who are here gathered in this Harvest Hall.
Fair Ceres, with her grain in golden sheaves,
Pomona, with her store of fruits and leaves;
Dear Peace and Plenty, happy in thought
That Harvest time hath such abundance brought.
While Mother Earth is smiling in content;
And I, myself, enjoy the glad event.
And yet,—this peace and plenty,—all of it,
Is meant the human race to benefit.
Now here‘s a question that I‘d like to ask;
As they, in this fair peace and plenty bask,
Do they appreciate what we bestow?
And are they grateful? This I‘d like to know.
Earth.
That‘s so, oh, Father Time, I‘ve often thought
Some folks don‘t seem as grateful as they ought.
Do they show gratitude? Not they, indeed!
They take all that we give—and pay no heed———
Time.
Now, Mother Earth, don‘t you be too severe
On our own children! Maybe, if we‘d hear
Their story———
Earth.
That‘s the thing to do! I say,
To-day they celebrate Thanksgiving Day
On earth. And I propose we try to find
Just what Thanksgiving means to mortal mind.
Time.
How go about it?
