Thanksgiving Poem For Child

Funny Bird 
(Author Unknown) 

A turkey is a funny bird, 
Its head goes wobble, wobble, 
All it knows is just one word, 
“Gobble, gobble, gobble.” 

Harvest 
John Charles McNeill, 1874-1907 Cows in the stall and sheep in the fold; 
Clouds in the west, deep crimson and gold; 
A heron’s far flight to a roost somewhere; 
The twitter of killdees keen in the air; 
The noise of a wagon that jolts through the gloam
On the last load home. 

There are lights in the windows; a blue spire of smoke
Climbs from the grange grove of elm and oak. 
The smell of the Earth, where the night pours to her
Its dewy libation, is sweeter than myrrh, 
And an incense to Toil is the smell of the loam
On the last load home. 

Giving Thanks 
(Author Unknown) 

For the hay and the corn and the wheat that is reaped, 
For the labor well done, and the barns that are heaped, 
For the sun and the dew and the sweet honeycomb, 
For the rose and the song and the harvest brought home —
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! 

For the trade and the skill and the wealth in our land, 
For the cunning and strength of the workingman’s hand, 
For the good that our artists and poets have taught, 
For the friendship that hope and affection have brought —
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! 

For the homes that with purest affection are blest, 
For the season of plenty and well-deserved rest, 
For our country extending from sea unto sea; 
The land that is known as the “Land of the Free” —
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! 

The Feast-time of the Year 
(Dora Read Goodale) 

This is the feast-time of the year, 
When plenty pours her wine of cheer, 
And even humble boards may spare
To poorer poor a kindly share. 
While bursting barns and granaries know
A richer, fuller overflow. 
And they who dwell in golden ease
Blest without toil, yet toil to please.