The (or, A) thanksgiving place.
I’ve heard quite a bit of my music here, heard it before I committed it to paper (or to its electronic equivalent). Much of this music has yet been heard by no one apart from myself.
For all the good, I thank this sweet place.
For Thanksgiving, I betook me to a path along which I ne’er walked before.
It turned out (in only one, and not the most important, sense) to be a dead end.