Harvest-Home

A toast for West and East
Drink on this Thursday feast
Last in November,
The year when Albion’s lands
Across the sea join hands--
Drink and remember!

Nineteen-eighteen fulfill’d
The kindly purpose will’d
By the Ever-living,
When first in hope upstay’d
The Pilgrim Fathers made
Harvest thanksgiving.

And since the seed bore fruit,
Which they went forth to root
In the wildernesses,
Ye now return to find
The Rose that they resigned
With their distresses.

’Twas when the wide world o’er,
Whatever peaceful shore
Britons inherit,
Britons claim’d right of birth,
And fought hell in the mirth
Of Shakespeare’s spirit.

Then your true heart was stirr’d,
Your arm raised, and your word
Went forth, forecasting
That the great war should cease
In British bonds of peace,
Peace everlasting.

The good God bless this day,
And we for ever and aye
Keep our love living,
Till all men ’neath heaven’s dome
Sing Freedom’s Harvest-home
In one Thanksgiving!