A Thanksgiving Song, a Gardener’s Harvest Poem

Thanksgiving harvest woman
Summer is gone,
Autumn is here; 
This is the harvest 
For all the year. 
Corn in the crib, 
Oats in the bin, 
Wheat is all threshed, 
Barley drawn in. 
Apples are barreled, 
Nuts laid to dry; 
Frost in the garden 
Winter is nigh. 
Father in heaven, 
Thank thee for all, 
Winter and springtime, 
Summer and fall. 
By Lydia Avery Coonley