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I would like to lift the curtain
Hides the past from mortal view,
For a glimpse of one Thanksgiving
When New England still was new.


I would like to see that feast day
Bradford for his people made,
Ere the onset of the winter,
That their hearts might be upstayed.


First he send a score of yeomen,
Skilled in woodcraft, sure of aim;
All one day they spent in hunting,
That there might be store of game.


Fathers, brothers (aye, and lovers!),
Home they bring the glossy dear;
Some but praise their hunter's prowess,
Some, soft-hearted, drop a tear.


I would like to see those housewives,
Busy matrons, maidens too,
Watching by the ripening oven,
Bending o'er the home-made brew.


I would like to see the feasting
Where the snowy cloth is spread;
Here shall no one be forgotten,
Here shall all be warmed and fed.


Welcome, too, ye friendly shadows
At the white man's feast and sport,
Tufted warriors, grave onlooking,
Massasoit and his court.