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23 Thanksgiving Poems
A collection of short Thanksgiving Poems to share with others to remind everyone, including ourselves, to
count our blessings.
These Thanksgiving Poems are great to share around the Thanksgiving table with family and friends.
We have many blessings to be thankful for each and every day not only on Thanksgiving Day!
May you and your family have a blessed Thanksgiving!
Short Poems / Special Occasion
/ Thanksgiving Poems - related: Happy Thanksgiving Quotes
Popular Poems about Thanksgiving
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A Thanksgiving
Poet: Wilhelmina Stitch
To each his song of thankfulness; each heart its song of praise;
and some will think of fertile fields, of golden wheat and maize;
and some will think of clinking gold, of solid pompous wealth;
and some will think of Love's high gift, and some will think of health.
But this my song of thankfulness, and this my song of praise—
thank God for all the friendly books, for every magic phrase;
for all the clever laughing books; for books that make one weep;
for books one reads to little folks that they may sweetly sleep.
To each his song of thankfulness; for me this song of praise—
thank God for all the lilting books, the rhythmic, glowing lays;
for all the rich romantic books; for books like gentle hands;
for books that take us on winged words to spirit-healing lands!
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Thanksgiving Thought
Poet: Eleanor Halbrook Zimmerman
Thanksgiving comes but once a year,
And yet the whole year round
The heart of love, the heart of cheer
Will make a joyful sound;
And we who keep Christ's loving way
Will have Thanksgiving every day.
Thanksgiving comes but once a year,
But harvests need not wait;
We can cast all our doubt and fear
Daily, and soon or late
Find harvests in our hearts that shine
More fair than wheat fields can design.
Rejoice on this Thanksgiving Day
That it peed have no end;
That every' hour in every way
Life is a steadfast friend
To all who practice well the art
Of true Thanksgiving in the heart!
-
Fill Your Heart With Thanksgiving
Poet: Helen Steiner Rice
Take nothing for granted, for whenever you do
The "joy of enjoying" is lessened for you -
For we rob our own lives much more than we know
When we fail to respond or in any way show
Our thanks for the blessings that daily are ours . . .
The warmth of the sun, the fragrance of flowers,
The beauty of twilight, the freshness of dawn,
The coolness of dew on a green velvet lawn,
The kind little deeds so thoughtfully done,
The favors of friends and the love that someone
Unselfishly gives us in a myriad of ways,
Expecting no payment and no words of praise -
Oh, great is our loss when we no longer find
A thankful response to things of this kind,
For the joy of enjoying and the fullness of living
Are found in the heart that is filled with thanksgiving
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Blessings
Poet: Patience Strong
We're very quick to voice complaints, and grumble with a frown,
If things go wrong and all our castles crash and tumble down.
We air our little grievances, when we come home at night -
And in that frame of mind you find that nothing turns out right...
If only we would make a list - a new one every day-
Of all the blessings we receive as we go on our way -
We'd never reach the end of it - you'd be surprised to find,
How many lovely little things would crowd into your mind....
God pours His blessings from about - but we're to blind to see -
And so we are the victims of our own stupidity...
We fret our little lives away - we week and doubt and grieve -
If only we would lift our hands and gratefully receive -
The blessings He bestows on us if we but watch and pray -
And look beyond the clouds to see the glory of each day.
-
Thanksgiving
Poet: Edgar A. Guest
Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin more beautiful day after day;
Chattin' an' braggin' a bit with the men,
Buildin' the old family circle again;
Livin' the wholesome an' old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.
Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother's a little bit grayer, that's all.
Father's a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an' to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin' our stories as women and men.
Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we're grateful an' glad to be there.
Home from the east land an' home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an' best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We've come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an' be frank,
Forgettin' position an' station an' rank.
Give me the end of the year an' its fun
When most of the plannin' an' toilin' is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin' with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An I'll put soul in my Thanksgivin' prayers.
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A Thanksgiving Prayer
Poet: Blanche Lea Walden
For those who bravely dared to face
The wolf-fangs of the sea,
To find a land where they might dwell
In faith and liberty.
For pioneers who blazed the trails
And broke the virgin sod
With strength and spirit, firm, and sure,
Today, we thank thee, God!
For ancestors with a vision
As wide and deep and high
And as filled with stars of promise
As the eternal sky,
For health and homes and country
And laughter, sweet and gay
For all of these - and love and faith
We thank thee, God, today!
-
Thanksgiving Song
Poet: Laura Lee Randall
This is the day the Lord hath made;
Be glad, give thanks, rejoice;
Stand in his presence, unafraid,
In praise lift up your voice.
All perfect gifts are from above,
And all our blessings show
The amplitude of God's dear love
Which every heart may know.
The Lord will hear before we call,
And every need supply;
Good things are freely given to all
Who on His word rely.
We come today to bring Him praise
Not for such gifts alone,
But for the higher, deeper ways
In which His love is shown.
For sin destroyed, for sorrow healed.
For health and peace restored;
For Life and Love by Truth revealed,
We thank and bless the Lord.
This is the day the Lord hath made,
In praise lift up your voice.
In shining robes of joy arrayed,
Be glad, give thanks, rejoice.
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Thanksgiving Kitchens
Poet: Dorothy Brown Thompson
Thanksgiving kitchens
Are gay with color —
Pumpkins are yellow.
Apples are red;
And though the puddings
Are somewhat duller,
A richer fragrance
Is theirs instead.
And what a fragrance!
Spices and sweetness
Wreathing steam-clouds
Round eager faces;
The turkey stuffed to
Luscious repleteness;
Thanksgiving kitchens —
Promising places!
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A Thanksgiving Hymn
Poet: Agnes Maule Machar
For the gladness of the sunshine.
For the dropping of the rain,
For the springtide's bloom of promise,
For the autumn's golden grain,
For the beauty of the forest.
For the fatness of the field,
For the orchard's rosy fruitage,
For the vineyard's luscious yield.
We thank Thee, O Lord!
For the nobler, richer beauty,
For the light that spirits know,
For the sacredness of duty
Guiding us through life below.
For our earthly ties so precious,
For the fireside warm and bright,
For the faith that through the darkness
Leads us to immortal light,
We thank Thee, O Lord!
For the drought that parched and withered.
For the blast that bared the bough,
For the clouds concealing blessings
That we may not measure now,
For our gladness and our sorrow.
For our poverty and wealth.
For our getting and our losing,
For our sickness and our health.
We thank Thee, O Lord!
For the losses and the crosses
Coming sore against our will;
From Thy hand each good gift cometh,
And, not less, the seeming ill.
What Thou givest in Thy wisdom.
That alone to us is blest.
And of all Thy countless givings,
For Thy boundless love, the best,
We thank Thee, Lord!
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Hope This Thanksgiving
Poet: Judith A. Lindberg
The simplicity is overwhelming,
For what we plant, we also reap.
Lord, grant us soul seeds,
That we may plant them with love,
Weather them with tears of compassion,
Nurture them with embraces of warmth,
Protect them from the storms of life.
Bless this bounty with grace and gentleness,
That the harvest will be abundant
In love, in trust, to be shared
With those closest to our hearts.
May we plant soul seeds for strength,
Harvested in hope this Thanksgiving,
For all the days and years that follow.
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Good To Set Aside
Poet Unknown
It is good
To set aside a day when we remember
That the beauty about us —
The land, the sea, the sky,
And all that is,
Is not as a result of our power,
But really, truly
Because of the Divine love
And providence of God
Who cares.
Father, instill in us
A right spirit,
So that what we see
Is not so much
The many things we have
For our own,
But what others do not have
To call their own.
Thus — in this light
Let us be thankful.
Thanksgiving — quite inexpressible in words
Yet adequately expressed
In little deeds or silent gifts
That arise spontaneously
Almost sympathetically
When the chord of love is struck.
Thus, in the touch of a moment
We express something almost inexpressible
And we give thanks.
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The Origin Of Thanksgiving
Poet: James Henry Thomas
This day which we now celebrate,
We know, did not originate
In these gay times; for pleasures hold
The highest place with young and old.
Nor in the nineteenth century,
When the whole world progressively
Moved on, and new inventions made.
For which men have been duly paid.
When success to the Pilgrims came,
They solemnized this day and name
By thanking God for blessings past,
And praying him that they might last.
They left their homes across the sea.
And came here, where they could be free
To serve the Lord in their own way;
They would not England's laws obey.
In sixteen hundred twenty-one,
After much needed work was done,
Realizing the progress made.
They met together, sang and prayed.
'Twas after the harvest had past;
That these good folks planned a repast.
They did not mourn, nor were they sad.
But they were happy, gay and glad.
They went to church and sang and prayed,
And there to God their homage paid;
They laughed and feasted all day long,
And sang a new thanksgiving song.
Nor were they selfish with their joys,
And they made not deceitful noise,
But welcomed Indians to their feast,
From the greatest to the least.
From this let us a lesson take,
And do not our God forsake;
But when Thanksgiving comes around,
Let's worship Him with joyful sound.
Thanksgiving comes, Thanksgiving goes,
Who'll see the next? Nobody knows.
But let us all thank God that we
Are living now, and this one see.
Thank God from whom all blessings flow,
Thank Him, all creatures here below;
Thank Him above, ye heavenly host;
Thank Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
-
Thanksgiving
Poet: Unknown
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.
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.
-
Thanksgiving
Poet: Cobb
For harvest safely stored away,
For snug warm home when skies are gray,
For work well done and it's reward,
Throughout this happy land is heard
Thanksgiving.
For all the blessings of the year.
For all the friends to us so dear.
For sweet content this glad day brings,
My heart breaks out in joy and sings
Thanksgiving.
-
Thanksgiving Day
Poet: Edward Sherwood Creamer
At the gateway of the winter now comes Thanksgiving tide.
In the glory of its atmosphere, its pie and turkey pride,
And it is most becoming that its cheer should far and wide abound.
E'en going to the humblest home where'er it may be found.
In olden time Thanksgiving was for harvests poor or good.
The corn, the pumpkin, wheat, and all that gave a livelihood,
For poor returns the Pilgrims held up their hearts in praise,
Far greater should our thanks be that live in these glorious days.
Then welcome be Thanksgiving with its manifold feasts and joys;
Under many a homestead roof now gather the girls and boys;
And though some of us fail somewhat in harvests where we strive,
We should be thankful for our hopes, and that we are alive.
Then pass around the turkey, the mince and apple pies;
Don't slight the poor and needy if in wisdom you'd be wise,
To relieve distress our people have only to be told,
For Lord be thanked the human heart is yet as good as gold!
-
A Good Thanksgiving
Poet: Marian Douglas
Said old gentleman Gay, "On a Thanksgiving Day,
If you want a good time, then give something away."
So he sent a fat turkey to shoemaker Price;
And the shoemaker said: "What a big bird! How nice!
And since such a good dinner's before me I ought
To give poor widow Lee the small chicken I bought."
"This fine chicken, O see!" said the pleased widow Lee.
"And the kindness that sent it, how precious to me!
I would like to make some one as happy as I;
I'll give washwoman Biddy my big pumpkin pie."
"And sure," Biddy said, "'tis the queen of all pies.
Just to look at its yellow face gladdens my eyes.
Now it's my turn, I think; and a sweet ginger-cake
For the motherless Finnigan children I'll bake."
"A sweet cake all our own! 'Tis too good to be true,"
Said the Finnigan children. Rose, Denny, and Hugh:
"It smells of sweet spice, and we'll carry a slice
To poor little lame Jake, who has nothing that's nice.
"
"O, thank you and thank you," said little lame Jake:
"What a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful cake!
And such a big slice! I'll save all the crumbs
And give them to each little sparrow that comes."
And the sparrows, they twittered as if they would say,
Like old gentleman Gay, "On a Thanksgiving day,
If you want a good time, then give something away."
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Thanksgiving
Poet: Margaret E. Sangster
The yellow has gone from the maples,
The birds fly away to the South,
I hear the great blast of the north wind,
A trumpet with storms in its mouth.
Ere long and the snow will be falling,
The twilight come early and cold,
And the beautiful runes of the summer
Shall be but as tales that are told.
Yet now is the time for Thanksgiving,
For music and greetings and mirth;
A song for the old folk we honor -
A song for the little one's birth.
In the home as we joyfully gather,
As gayly we sit at the board,
We lift up our praise to the Father:
Accept our Thanksgiving, O Lord!
For the land of our love and our freedom,
For harvests in byre and bin,
For the flag on the school and our steeple,
For fruits in their wealth garnered in.
Dear Lord, when we count up thy mercies.
Bewildered we pause in the task,
So swift and so large is thy goodness,
Outrunning the favors we ask.
The kindred come home for Thanksgiving,
Sweet children, old men with gray hair;
And sometimes the poor and the stranger
The love and the tenderness share.
God make us like him in our giving,
Like him in our grace and our love,
And so shall the light of our living
Be caught from his temple above.
-
The True Thanksgiving
Poet: Unknown
There is no heart so bleak and bare
But heaven has sent some blessing there;
No table, e're so sparsely spread,
But that a grace should there be said.
No life but knows some moment blest.
Of sweet contentment and of rest;
No heart so cold but heaven above
Hath touched it with the warmth of love.
For those who suffer and endure
There is God's mercy ever sure,
And patience wins a fairer crown
Than wordly honor or renown.
Not in the mansion reared in pride
Doth happiness alone abide,
For oft the place knoweth not
The joy that bless an humble cot.
So count you blessings, one by one,
At early morn and set of sun,
And, like an incense, to the skies
Your prayers of thankfulness shall rise.
Look for the love that heaven sends,
The good that every soul intends.
Thus you will learn the only way
To keep a true Thanksgiving day.
-
A Psalm Of Thanksgiving
Psalm 100 (NLT)
Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth!
Worship the Lord with gladness.
Come before him, singing with joy.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God!
He made us, and we are his
We are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving;
go into his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the Lord is good.
His unfailing love continues forever,
and his faithfulness continues to each generation.
-
The Approach of Thanksgiving
Poet: Eugene Field
There is a dawning in the sky
Which doth a world of fate imply,
And on each casual passing face
A look expectant you may trace.
These signs the veteran turkey sees
And with a deep and mournful sigh,
He calls his numerous family nigh
And murmurs, pointing to the trees,
"Roost high, my little ones, roost high! "
More Special Occasion Poems And Quotes To Share
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Gratitude, Grateful and Thankful
One last thought on Thanksgiving:
Thanksgiving All The Year
Author Unknown
On Thanksgiving, some, or at least a few of us, make it a
special point to try to be thankful for something but we sometimes limit it to Thanksgiving. Afterwards, we go around complaining and finding fault with everybody and everything.
Of course, we all have blue days on which everything seems to go wrong, but instead of making them bluer, why
not try to lighten them with a smile, and make every day a Thanksgiving day by finding something we have to be thankful for?
There are so many things that unless we try, we can't realize how much we really can be thankful for. It is
a great game - why not try it and see if you don't feel much better on one of those dark days?
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