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Best Famous Thanksgiving Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Thanksgiving poems. This is a select list of the best famous Thanksgiving poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Thanksgiving poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of thanksgiving poems.

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by Algernon Charles Swinburne | |

Concord

 Reconciled by death's mild hand, that giving
Peace gives wisdom, not more strong than mild,
Love beholds them, each without misgiving
Reconciled.
Each on earth alike of earth reviled, Hated, feared, derided, and forgiving, Each alike had heaven at heart, and smiled.
Both bright names, clothed round with man's thanksgiving, Shine, twin stars above the storm-drifts piled, Dead and deathless, whom we saw not living Reconciled.


by Sarah Fuller Flower Adams | |

Part In Peace: Is Day Before Us?

Part in peace: is day before us?
Praise His Name for life and light;
Are the shadows lengthening o’er us?
Bless His care Who guards the night.
Part in peace: with deep thanksgiving, Rendering, as we homeward tread, Gracious service to the living, Tranquil memory to the dead.
Part in peace: such are the praises God our Maker loveth best; Such the worship that upraises Human hearts to heavenly rest.


by Mark Van Doren | |

Farewell and Thanksgiving

 Whatever I have left unsaid
When I am dead
O'muse forgive me.
You were always there, like light, like air.
Those great good things of which the least bird sings, So why not I? Yet thank you even then, Sweet muse, Amen.


by Edgar Albert Guest | |

Thanksgiving

 (For John Bunker)

The roar of the world is in my ears.
Thank God for the roar of the world! Thank God for the mighty tide of fears Against me always hurled! Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife, And the sting of His chastening rod! Thank God for the stress and the pain of life, And Oh, thank God for God!


by The Bible | |

Psalm 95:1-3; 6-8

O come let us worship and bow down,
Let us kneel before the Lord our maker
Offering the praise He deserves
For He is our God, our creator
We are the people of His pasture
And we are the sheep of His hand
So we shall offer with thanksgiving
Praises to the great "I Am"
Today if you would hear His voice,
Don't let your hearts grow hard
As they had done so long ago
In the wilderness at Meribah
So come let us sing to the Lord,
Make a joyful noise to our rock
With songs of praise and worship
To the King above all 'gods'.

Scripture Poem © Copyright Of M.
S.
Lowndes


by The Bible | |

Psalm 119:166-171

I eagerly hope and wait
For your salvation, O Lord
All your testimonies have I kept,
Loving and obeying your law
All my ways are before you
And your precepts, I have observed
Hear my mournful cry, O Lord
Give understanding by your word
For your word shall deliver me
And my lips pour forth your praise
With thanksgiving and renewed trust
For you instruct me in your ways.

Scripture Poem © Copyright Of M.
S.
Lowndes


by Anonymous | |

THANKSGIVING.

There’s not a leaf within the bower,—
There’s not a bird upon the tree,—
There’s not a dewdrop on the flower,—
But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee.
[Pg 008]
Thy power the varied leaf designed,
And gave the bird its thrilling tone;
Thy hand the dewdrops’ tints combined,
Till like a diamond’s blaze they shone.
Yes, dewdrops, leaves and buds, and all,—
The smallest, like the greatest things,—
The sea’s vast space, the earth’s wide ball,
Alike proclaim Thee, King of kings!But man alone, to bounteous Heaven,
Thanksgiving’s conscious strains can raise:
To favored man, alone, ’tis given,
To join the angelic choir in praise.


by Mac Hammond | |

Thanksgiving

 The man who stands above the bird, his knife
Sharp as a Turkish scimitar, first removes
A thigh and leg, half the support
On which the turkey used to stand.
This Leg and thigh he sets on an extra Plate.
All his weight now on One leg, he lunges for the wing, the wing On the same side of the bird from which He has just removed the leg and thigh.
He frees the wing enough to expose The breast, the wing not severed but Collapsed down to the platter.
One hand Holding the fork, piercing the turkey Anywhere, he now beings to slice the breast, Afflicted by small pains in his chest, A kind of heartburn for which there is no Cure.
He serves the hostess breast, her Own breast rising and falling.
And so on, Till all the guests are served, the turkey Now a wreck, the carver exhausted, a Mere carcass of his former self.
Everyone Says thanks to the turkey carver and begins To eat, thankful for the cold turkey And the Republic for which it stands.


by Linda Pastan | |

Home For Thanksgiving

 The gathering family
throws shadows around us,
it is the late afternoon
Of the family.
There is still enough light to see all the way back, but at the windows that light is wasting away.
Soon we will be nothing but silhouettes: the sons' as harsh as the fathers'.
Soon the daughters will take off their aprons as trees take off their leaves for winter.
Let us eat quickly-- let us fill ourselves up.
the covers of the album are closing behind us.


by Andrew Barton Paterson | |

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep

 The long day passes with its load of sorrow: 
In slumber deep 
I lay me down to rest until tomorrow -- 
Thank God for sleep.
Thank God for all respite from weary toiling, From cares that creep Across our lives like evil shadows, spoiling God's kindly sleep.
We plough and sow, and, as the hours grow later, We strive to reap, And build our barns, and hope to build them greater Before we sleep.
We toil and strain and strive with one another In hopes to heap Some greater share of profit than our brother Before we sleep.
What will it profit that with tears or laughter Our watch we keep? Beyond it all there lies the Great Hereafter! Thank God for sleep! For, at the last, beseeching Christ to save us We turn with deep Heartfelt thanksgiving unto God, who gave us The Gift of Sleep.


by Robert William Service | |

Weary

 Some praise the Lord for Light,
 The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
 The healing dark.
When wearily I lie, With aching sight, With what thanksgiving I Turn out the light! When to night's drowsy deep Serene I sink, How glad am I to sleep, To cease to think! From care and fret set free, In sweet respite, With joy I peacefully Turn out the light.
Lie down thou weary one, And sink to rest; Nay, grieve not for the sun, The dark is best.
So greet with grateful breath Eternal Night, When soft the hand of Death Turns out the light.


by Emily Dickinson | |

Twas just this time last year I died.

 'Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms -- It had the Tassels on -- I thought how yellow it would look -- When Richard went to mill -- And then, I wanted to get out, But something held my will.
I thought just how Red -- Apples wedged The Stubble's joints between -- And the Carts stooping round the fields To take the Pumpkins in -- I wondered which would miss me, least, And when Thanksgiving, came, If Father'd multiply the plates -- To make an even Sum -- And would it blur the Christmas glee My Stocking hang too high For any Santa Claus to reach The Altitude of me -- But this sort, grieved myself, And so, I thought the other way, How just this time, some perfect year -- Themself, should come to me --


by Emily Dickinson | |

One Day is there of the Series

 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.