Thanksgiving and the New England Inheritance
The year decays, November’s blastThrough leafless boughs pipes shrill and drear;With warmer love the home clasps fastThe hands, the hearts, the friends most dear. On many seas men sail the fleetOf hopes as fruitless as the foam;They roam the world with restless feet,But find no sweeter spot than home. To-day with quickened hearts they hearOld…










