The First Thanksgiving

~ Florence Ray ~

A very long, long time ago

In England far away

Were Pilgrim folks who thought it wise

To leave their homes one day,

That they might find another land

Where free they all would be

To build a church of their own choice

And worship peacefully.

To freedom, then, across the sea

And westward many a week

They sailed the sturdy Mayflower

In weather rough and bleak.

The voyage was a dreary one,

The days were long and gray,

And restless children on the ship

Found little room to play.

At last the Pilgrims sighted land.

America they found,

Where they could live and worship God

Upon that precious ground.

With homes to build and fields to plow

Their plans were swiftly laid.

It was not very long before

A village they had made.

The colored leaves began to fall;

The ducks and geese flew high;

The setting sun hung red and low

Along the western sky.

While autumn's rich and mellow days

Were at their very best,

The Pilgrims then proclaimed a day

To worship, feast, and rest.

Oh, what a bustle!  What a stir!

To plan the feast and bake

The puddings, pies, and loaves of bread,

And even johnnycake,

To roast the turkeys and the deer,

To bake the clams they found.

The air was filled with luscious smells

From kitchens all around.

And then the Indian guests arrived

To share the heaping trays;

Their fellowship was Heaven blest,

And friends they all did stay.

The time to feast had come at last

And then a time for play,

All underneath the autumn sun

That first Thanksgiving day.

Artwork scene by:  Edward Moret