Thanksgiving Day (Poem by Emily Dickinson)

Emily Dickinson

Thanksgiving Day
By 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 bay, — 
Unto such, were such assembly,
    'T were Thanksgiving day.

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