by margaret e. sangster.

when the indians used to prowl

round the house at dead of night,

and the north wind's angry howl

sounded fierce by candle-light;

when the very babies learned

how to whisper when they cried,

and the young boys early earned

right to carry arms with pride—

in those wild exciting days,

often hungry, often cold,

men uplifted songs of praise,

women's hearts were strong and bold.

and amid their penury,

in their want and peril, they

set apart, with courage free,

their first brave thanksgiving day.

over harvests gathered in

with a stealthy foe anear,

over scanty byre and bin,

over joys which cost them dear,

gallant souls that would not bend

met their trustful grace to say,

heart to heart and friend to friend;

so they kept thanksgiving day.

ours to-day a happier fate:

royal wealth on us outpoured,

wide our pleasant land, and great

is the throng about our board.

run the dear old flag aloft;

let it float from ship and spire!

wake thanksgiving, field and croft,

house and home, and child and sire.