Summer Days Are Over

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"Summer days are over,
  Summer work is done;
  Harvests have been gathered
  Gayly one by one.
  Now the feast is eaten,
  Finished is the play;
  But one rite remains for
  Our Thanksgiving-day.

  "Best of all the harvest
  In the dear God's sight,
  Are the happy children
  In the home to-night;
  And we come to offer
  Thanks where thanks are due,
  With grateful hearts and voices,
  Father, mother, unto you."

© Louisa May Alcott