Thanksgiving Poems: Emily Dickinson

by Anna Blanch on November 21, 2010

This is the fifth in a series of Thanksgiving Poems in preparation for next week. Do you have a favourite thanksgiving poem?
814: One day is there of the Series
Emily Dickinson

One Day is there of the Series
Termed Thanksgiving Day.
Celebrated part at Table
Part in Memory.

Neither Patriarch nor Pussy
I dissect the Play
Seems it to my Hooded thinking
Reflex Holiday.

Had there been no sharp Subtraction
From the early Sum —
Not an Acre or a Caption
Where was once a Room —

Not a Mention, whose small Pebble
Wrinkled any Sea,
Unto Such, were such Assembly
’Twere Thanksgiving Day.

Anna Blanch is founder of Goannatree, and a PhD candidate in the Institute of Theology, Imagination, and the Arts at St Mary’s College, University of St Andrews, Scotland. She is also a regular contributor to Transpositions.

  • Chris

    Thanksgiving Poem in Haiti.

    God who loves me
    Help others to feel my pain
    to know my fear
    to appreciate my homelessness
    to experience my disease
    to to see you in my face
    to love me as you love me.
    I thank you for life…though it is hard right now…
    My recent post Life’s A Beach

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