Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East to West.
From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored,
What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before,
What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye?
What calls back the past like rich Pumpkin pie?
John Greenleaf Whittier
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