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Thanksgiving invite poem

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Thanksgiving invite poem
February 24, 2019 Holiday Thanks 2 comments

Thanksgiving, A Poem, In Two Parts. Pittsfield: Phinæhas Allen Wide as the Genius of Thanksgiving flies, . Some whom the pleasure of the Chase invite.

It’s so easy to get caught up in our busy lives.

From New Years resolutions to spring cleaning, and summer vacations to the holidays—life can come and go as quickly as the seasons.

That’s why it’s so important to pause, reflect, and feel gratitude for all the blessings we have in our lives.

“Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.” – Oprah Winfrey

“Pride slays thanksgiving, but a humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow. A proud man is seldom a grateful man, for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves.” – Henry Ward Beecher

“Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labour when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off’rings, and a thankful strain.” – Alexander Pope

“He who thanks but with the lips Thanks but in part; The full, the true Thanksgiving Comes from the heart.” – J.A. Shedd

“Let us remember that, as much has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds.” – Theodore Roosevelt

“If you think about a Thanksgiving dinner, it’s really like making a large chicken.” – Ina Garten

“But see, in our open clearings, how golden the melons lie; Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin-pie!” – Margaret Junkin Preston

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.” – Melody Beattie

“Remember God’s bounty in the year. String the pearls of His favor. Hide the dark parts, except so far as they are breaking out in light! Give this one day to thanks, to joy, to gratitude!” – Henry Ward Beecher

“On Thanksgiving Day we acknowledge our dependence.” – William Jennings Bryan

“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.” – H.U. Westermayer

“Thanksgiving is a time of togetherness and gratitude.” – Nigel Hamilton

“I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage.” – Erma Bombeck

“Thanksgiving Day is a jewel, to set in the hearts of honest men; but be careful that you do not take the day, and leave out the gratitude.” – E.P. Powell

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.” – John Fitzgerald Kennedy

“Appreciation can change a day, even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary.” – Margaret Cousins

“It has been an unchallengeable American doctrine that cranberry sauce, a pink goo with overtones of sugared tomatoes, is a delectable necessity of the Thanksgiving board and that turkey is uneatable without it.” – Alistair Cooke

“Thanksgiving comes to us out of the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straws we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings.” – J. Robert Moskin

“There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.” – O. Henry, Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen

“I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.” – Jon Stewart

“Give thanks not just on Thanksgiving Day, but every day of your life. Appreciate and never take for granted all that you have.” – Catherine Pulsifer

“Thanksgiving is the holiday of peace, the celebration of work and the simple life… a true folk-festival that speaks the poetry of the turn of the seasons, the beauty of seedtime and harvest, the ripe product of the year — and the deep, deep connection of all these things with God.” – Ray Stannard Baker

“Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year because it reminds us to give thanks and to count our blessings. Suddenly, so many things become so little when we realize how blessed and lucky we are.” – Joyce Giraud

“What I love about Thanksgiving is that it’s purely about getting together with friends or family and enjoying food. It’s really for everybody, and it doesn’t matter where you’re from.” – Daniel Humm

“All across America, we gather this week with the people we love to give thanks to God for the blessings in our lives.” – George W. Bush

“Almighty God, who hast given us this good land for our heritage; We humbly beseech Thee that we may always prove ourselves a people mindful of Thy favor and glad to do Thy will.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt

“Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has plenty; not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” – Charles Dickens

“When asked if my cup is half-full or half-empty my only response is that I am thankful I have a cup.” – Sam Lefkowitz

“Thanksgiving, man. Not a good day to be my pants.” – Kevin James

“Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse.” – Henry Van Dyke

“I like football. I find its an exciting strategic game. It’s a great way to avoid conversation with your family at Thanksgiving.” – Craig Ferguson

“The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.” – Dalai Lama

“The more we express thanks, the more gratitude we feel. The more gratitude we feel, the more we express thanks. It’s circular, and it leads to a happier life.” – Steve Goodier

“Thanksgiving reminds us that no matter what befalls us in life, we can take the charred remnants and we can reconstruct a life unimaginably richer than that from which the shards and pieces fell.” – Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Although Thanksgiving comes but once a year, every day should be a day of Thanks. Among all the challenges that we face as people with hearing loss there are certainly brighter moments in every day – moments that deserve to be recorded in our Gratitude Journal.” – Monique Hammond

“Real ballplayers pass the stuffing by rolling it up in a ball and batting it across the table with a turkey leg.” – Tom Swyers

“Thanksgiving Day is a good day to recommit our energies to giving thanks and just giving.”– Amy Grant

“Thanksgiving just gets me all warm and tingly and all kinds of wonderful inside.” – Willard Scott

“My most memorable meal is every Thanksgiving. I love the food: the turkey and stuffing; the sweet potatoes and rice, which come from my mother’s Southern heritage; the mashed potatoes, which come from my wife’s Midwestern roots; the Campbell’s green-bean casserole; and of course, pumpkin pie.” – Douglas Conant

“On Thanksgiving I will stop to give thanks that my family is safe and healthy, especially because I realize that, following the tragedies of this year, it is all too real a possibility that they might not have been.” – Bobby Jindal

“You shouldn’t just give during Christmas and Thanksgiving you should be giving all the time.” – Alcurtis Turner

“My fondest memories are generally the day after Thanksgiving. I get the total decorating Christmas itch.” – Katharine McPhee

“Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year because it reminds us to give thanks and to count our blessings. Suddenly, so many things become so little when we realize how blessed and lucky we are.” – Joyce Giraud

“An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day.” – Irv Kupcinet

“It’s like being at the kids’ table at Thanksgiving – you can put your elbows on it, you don’t have to talk politics… no matter how old I get, there’s always a part of me that’s sitting there.” – John Hughes

“Thanksgiving, our eminent moral holiday, doesn’t have much for children. At its heart are conversation, food, drink, and fellowship – all perks of adulthood.” – Rosecrans Baldwin

“Thanksgiving is America’s favorite holiday because it’s a time when we put aside our cares, much as the struggling Pilgrims did nearly four centuries ago, and eat a gut-busting meal without worrying about the ‘out years.'” – David Ignatius

“But see, in our open clearings, how golden the melons lie; Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin-pie!” – Margaret Junkin Preston

“What we’re really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?” – Erma Bombeck

“Coexistence: what the farmer does with the turkey — until Thanksgiving.” – Mike Connolly

“Stand up, on this Thanksgiving Day, stand upon your feet. Believe in man. Soberly and with clear eyes, believe in your own time and place. There is not, and there never has been a better time, or a better place to live in.” – Phillips Brooks

“A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all the other virtues.” – Cicero

“And though I ebb in worth, I’ll flow in thanks.” – John Taylor

“I suppose I will die never knowing what pumpkin pie tastes like when you have room for it.” – Robert Brault

“Thanksgiving is so called because we are all so thankful that it only comes once a year.” – P. J. O’Rourke

“Thanksgiving is America’s national chow-down feast, the one occasion each year when gluttony becomes a patriotic duty.” – Michael Dresser

“Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving.” – W.T. Purkiser

“If you want to turn your life around, try thankfulness. It will change your life mightily.” – Gerald Good

“If you are really thankful, what do you do? You share.” – W. Clement Stone

“The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.” – William Blake

“I love Thanksgiving because it is a holiday centered around food and family, two things that are of utmost importance to me.” – Marcus Samuelsson

“It took me three weeks to stuff the turkey. I stuffed it through the beak.” – Phyllis Diller

“Cooking Tip: Wrap turkey leftovers in aluminum foil and throw them out.” – Nicole Hollander

“The Thanksgiving tradition is, we overeat. ‘Hey, how about at Thanksgiving we just eat a lot?’ ‘But we do that every day!’ ‘Oh. What if we eat a lot with people that annoy the hell out of us?” – Jim Gaffigan

“Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man it comes as frequently as the heart of gratitude will allow.” – Edward Sandford Martin

“I’m from Canada, so Thanksgiving to me is just Thursday with more food. And I’m thankful for that.” – Howie Mandel

“If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. There’s turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastrami. Someone needs to tell the turkey, man, just be yourself.” – Mitch Hedberg

“Thanksgiving, after all, is a word of action.” – W.J. Cameron

“Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie.” – Jim Davis

“Most turkeys taste better the day after; my mother’s tasted better the day before.” – Rita Rudner

“You can tell you ate too much for Thanksgiving when you have to let your bathrobe out.” – Jay Leno

“My Thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite — only a sense of existence.” – Henry David Thoreau

“Forever on Thanksgiving Day the heart will find the pathway home.” – Wilbur D. Nesbit

“Thanksgiving is a joyous invitation to shower the world with love and gratitude.” – Amy Leigh Mercree

Thanksgiving Quotes from Books, Films, and Television

“A thought about Thanksgiving Day: Once, there was this day… this one day when… everyone realized they needed each other. ” – April Burns in Pieces of April

“Here I am, 5 o’clock in the morning, stuffing bread crumbs up a dead bird’s butt.” – Rosanne in Rosanne

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” – Thornton Wilder, The Woman of Andros

“Thanksgiving creates abundance.” – Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” – Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas; a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.” – Augusten Burroughs, You Better Not Cry: Stories for Christmas

“The funny thing about Thanksgiving ,or any big meal, is that you spend 12 hours shopping for it then go home and cook, chop, braise and blanch. Then it’s gone in 20 minutes and everybody lies around sort of in a sugar coma and then it takes 4 hours to clean it up.” – Ted Allen, The Food You Want to Eat: 100 Smart, Simple Recipes

“I always think it’s funny when Indians celebrate Thanksgiving. I mean, sure, the Indians and Pilgrims were best friends during the first Thanksgiving, but a few years later, the Pilgrims were shooting Indians. So I’m never quite sure why we eat Turkey like everybody else.” – Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

“America has developed a pie tradition unequivocally and unapologetically at the sweet end of the scale, and at no time is this better demonstrated than at Thanksgiving.” – Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“Preparing and serving food had always been a joy, for it made her appreciate the abundance of the world.” – Elizabeth Camden, Until The Dawn

“About 94 percent of Americans prepare and serve turkey at home and most people stick to a traditional menu for the main meal: turkey with cranberry sauce, mashed white potatoes with giblet gravy, candied sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, a cooked green vegetable dish, relishes, and a pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert.” – Martin K. Gay, Encyclopedia of North American Eating & Drinking Traditions, Customs, and Rituals

“Family gathers to share good noise and good food. Gratitude abounds.” – Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

“’So what do we do?’ We do what all families do. Grin, bear it, and pass the mashed potatoes.”” – Heather Brewer, Eleventh Grade Burns

“The next day, eating a turkey sandwich with salt and mayonnaise, Rebecca decided Thanksgiving was the best holiday, although she had little to choose from: her family never celebrated Hanukkah but her father was militant about ignoring Christmas and insisted they spend December 25 eating Chinese takeout and going to the movies.” – Anna Quindlen, Still Life with Bread Crumbs

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go baste the turkey and hide the kitchen knives.” – Mrs. Pascal in The House of Yes

“In November, people are good to each other. They carry pies to each other’s homes and talk by crackling woodstoves, sipping mellow cider. They travel very far on a special November day just to share a meal with one another and to give thanks for their many blessings – for the food on their tables and the babies in their arms.” – Cynthia Rylant, In November

“Thanksgiving is the holiday that encompasses all others. All of them, from Martin Luther King Day to Arbor Day to Christmas to Valentine’s Day, are in one way or another about being thankful.” – Jonathan Safran Foer, Eating Animals

“Overeating at Thanksgiving is a case in point. It’s a national tradition.” – Eric Samuel Timm, Static Jedi: The Art of Hearing God Through the Noise

“It’s not too much food. This is what we’ve been training for our whole lives. This is our destiny, this is our finest hour.” – Lorelai Gilmore in Gilmore Girls

“I can’t cook a Thanksgiving dinner. All I can make is cold cereal and maybe toast.” – Charlie Brown in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

“Turkey: A large bird whose flesh, when eaten on certain religious anniversaries has the peculiar property of attesting piety and gratitude.” – Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

“Once you start practicing being grateful and thankful for things, people, and events, you may notice that you start to attract more positive things, people, and events in your life.” – Stephanie Conkle, Happy Person. Happy Life. A Recipe for Happiness

“We all can ‘act’ a certain way for a brief period of time, for instance, on Thanksgiving, who of us hasn’t had to ‘act’ like we just loved everyone at the table? This brief show of good behavior is not true character. Our character is who we are when no one is looking.” – Becky Van Volkinburg, God’s Word, Your Voice

“Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.” – Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

“Turkey for the girls and Turkey for the boys. My favorite kind of pants are corduroys. Gobble gobble goo and Gobble gobble gickel. I wish turkey only cost a nickel. Oh I love turkey on Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!” – Adam Sandler, The Thanksgiving Song

“Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.” – William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors

Did you enjoy our list of Thanksgiving quotes? Which one sparked your holiday spirit? Share your favorite thanksgiving quote in the comments below – we’d love to add any additions to the list!

“Thanksgiving – fall’s finale. Best damn holiday of the year in my worldly estimation.” – Carew Papritz, The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift

Wish your loved ones a Happy Thanksgiving with this fun-filled poem. Free online A Thanksgiving Turkey Poem ecards on Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving acrostic poem: I am thankful

thanksgiving invite poem

Hosting Thanksgiving is easy… said no one in their right mind, ever. But regardless, someone has to do it, and this year it falls to you. There’s plenty to do, but getting people invited to your big turkey day should be near the top of the list.

Thanksgiving is traditionally a family celebration, with distant relatives traveling from distant locations to enjoy a once-a-year feast. But in recent years, a phenomenon known as Friendsgiving has emerged as an alternative – or even an addition – to traditional Thanksgiving celebrations. As the name implies, Friendsgiving means sticking closer to home and spending the holiday with friends.

Whether it’s Thanksgiving or Friendsgiving you’re hosting, the first thing you should do is consider what type of invitations you need – or indeed whether you need them at all. If you’re only hosting family, you might do what many (most?) Thanksgiving hosts choose to do, and let word spread through the familial grapevine. Even for a Friendsiving celebration, an electronic invitation or simple text email may serve just fine in place of a formal invite.

Now, if you’re still reading, that probably means you’re set on sending out invitations of some sort. This article has tips on how to do it right, along with some wording examples to help you hit the ground running. So let’s talk turkey.

Thanksgiving Invite Tips

Like any other party invitation, an invite for Thanksgiving dinner should give invitees the basic information about the event without overwhelming them with details. Here a few quick tips:

1. Careful who you invite! This might not matter as much for larger social events where people can easily avoid each other, but for an intimate dinner party, you should only invite people who are likely to get along. Small gatherings + clashing personalities + copious amounts of wine = more stress for you and everyone else in attendance. Of course, if you’re hosting family, arbitrarily excluding people may not be an option (that is, if you want to stay on speaking terms with everyone).

2. Set the RSVP deadline strategically. There are a couple of advantages to setting an RSVP date well in advance of the big day. One, it gets people to commit to your party before they have a chance to make other plans for the holiday. And two, knowing how many people are going to be there makes it easier to plan the meal. These points are especially pertinent if you’re hosting Friendsgiving, as many of your invitees may not be able to attend due to family commitments.

3. Handle potluck and other details separately. If dinner is a potluck, you should mention it on the invite so people know what they’re getting into. But beyond that, there’s no need to go into details, which are much better handled in followup communications with confirmed guests. The same goes for information about food allergies, travel plans, and other details you can work out later.

Samples

Okay, enough with the general pointers. Here are some specific wording ideas you can adapt for your own Thanksgiving dinner invitations:

Join Us For A
Thanksgiving Feast
November 26 at 4 PM
The Longfellow Residence
1234 Waddle Road, Glendale
RSVP to Tammy (123-4567 / [email protected]) by Nov. 11
Please Join Us For
Thanksgiving Dinner
November 26 at 2 PM
The Smith Home
1234 Stuffing Street, Glendale
RSVP to Jack (123-4567 / [email protected]) by November 9
Drinks, Football & Board Games to Follow
Give Thanks & Eat Turkey
Please Join Us For Our Annual
Thanksgiving Dinner
November 26 at 4 PM
The Simon Residence
1234 55th Street Southwest, Glendale
RSVP to John (123-4567 / [email protected]) by Nov. 9

Friendsgiving

Get Your Fat Pants Out!
You Are Invited To Our
Friendsgiving Dinner
November 24 at 5 PM
Hosted by Kim and Betsy
1234 Pumpkin Road, Glendale
RSVP to Kim (123-4567 / [email protected]) by Nov. 12

Potluck

Join Us For A
Thanksgiving Potluck
November 26 at 3 PM
Hosted by William and Jen Worthing
1234 Gravy Way, Glendale
RSVP to William (123-4567 / [email protected]) by Nov. 10
We’ll make the turkey – you bring your favorite dish to share!

Want to jazz up your invitation with some fowl humor? Try incorporating one of these turkey puns. Alternatively, consider adding a touch of class with one of these quotes about being thankful.

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The Guest House

thanksgiving invite poem

Last year at this time, I showed you how to create a Thanksgiving acrostic poem. Here’s a variation that helps your kids focus on reasons to be thankful.

When you’re scrambling around the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day and the children are underfoot, sit them down at the kitchen table with this activity.

Directions

Write the words I AM THANKFUL vertically on a sheet of lined paper. Using each of the letters, make an acrostic

  1. Each line can be one word, a phrase, or a sentence. There’s no right or wrong, as you can see from the examples below.
  2. If children are having trouble thinking of words, use tools like magazines, catalogs, a thesaurus, or word lists to prompt ideas.
  3. Poems can be left-aligned or centered.
  4. Afterwards, illustrate your acrostics or decorate the page with photos cut from a magazine.

Example: Gratitude

I want to thank God for

A ll His wonderful blessings, like His
M ercy and grace and compassion. For simple things like…

T oast and cocoa. For big things like…
H ope in a dark world. For blessings like…
A warm, cozy home filled with love.
N ine fun cousins!
K eeping me safe.
F riends that are closer than brothers. I want to always lift
U p praise to Him with a thankful heart, knowing how much He
L oves me.

Example: A Thankful Heart

I am thankful for . . .

A ll my clothes and toys . . .
y mom, dad, and brothers . . .

T rue friends . . .
H ome and health . . .
A back yard to run and play . . .
N ana and Papa . . .
K nowing God loves me . . .
F ood on our table . . .
U ncles, aunts, and cousins . . .
L iving in a free country.

Example: I Am Thankful

I am thankful for

pples and pears
M y red hair

T oys
H ot dogs
A irplanes and cars
N ew crayons
K ittens and puppies
F lowers and stars
U nited States of America
L egos

If you enjoyed this Thanksgiving acrostic poem, visit our Holiday and Seasonal Ideas for other Thanksgiving writing activities.

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Here are some samples of thanksgiving party invitation wording that you can use for your party invitation. These thanksgiving invitation.

Song of Myself (1892 version)

thanksgiving invite poem

1

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,

I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,

Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,

Nature without check with original energy.

2

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes,

I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,

The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,

It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,

I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,

I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,

Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,

My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,

The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,

The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of the wind,

A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,

The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,

The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,

The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?

Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?

Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,

You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)

You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,

You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,

You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

3

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,

But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,

Nor any more youth or age than there is now,

And will never be any more perfection than there is now,

Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,

Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex,

Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.

To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams,

Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,

I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,

Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,

Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,

Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing;

As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread,

Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels swelling the house with their plenty,

Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes,

That they turn from gazing after and down the road,

And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,

Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?

4

Trippers and askers surround me,

People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation,

The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new,

My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,

The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,

The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,

Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events;

These come to me days and nights and go from me again,

But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,

Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,

Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,

Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,

Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders,

I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

5

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,

How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over upon me,

And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,

And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth,

And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,

And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,

And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,

And that a kelson of the creation is love,

And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,

And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,

And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap’d stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.

6

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;

How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,

A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,

Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,

And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,

Growing among black folks as among white,

Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,

It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,

It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,

It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps,

And here you are the mothers’ laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,

Darker than the colorless beards of old men,

Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,

And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,

And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?

And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,

And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,

And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

7

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?

I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and am not contain’d between my hat and boots,

And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,

The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,

I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself,

(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,

For me those that have been boys and that love women,

For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted,

For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the mothers of mothers,

For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,

For me children and the begetters of children.

Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,

I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,

And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.

8

The little one sleeps in its cradle,

I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill,

I peeringly view them from the top.

The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom,

I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.

The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders,

The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,

The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls,

The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs,

The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital,

The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,

The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the centre of the crowd,

The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,

What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sunstruck or in fits,

What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and give birth to babes,

What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrain’d by decorum,

Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips,

I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I come and I depart.

9

The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,

The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,

The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,

The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load,

I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,

I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,

And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

10

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,

Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,

In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,

Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game,

Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves with my dog and gun by my side.

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud,

My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,

I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;

You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl,

Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders,

On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride by the hand,

She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her feet.

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,

I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,

Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,

And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,

And brought water and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d feet,

And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes,

And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,

And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;

He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north,

I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.

11

Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,

Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;

Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,

She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?

Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,

You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,

The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their long hair,

Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass’d over their bodies,

It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,

They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch,

They do not think whom they souse with spray.

12

The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market,

I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,

Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire.

From the cinder-strew’d threshold I follow their movements,

The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,

Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,

They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.

13

The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain,

The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois’d on one leg on the string-piece,

His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over his hip-band,

His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead,

The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of his polish’d and perfect limbs.

I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there,

I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing,

To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,

Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?

It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble,

They rise together, they slowly circle around.

I believe in those wing’d purposes,

And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,

And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,

And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else,

And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me,

And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

14

The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,

Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation,

The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,

Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.

The sharp-hoof’d moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog,

The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,

The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings,

I see in them and myself the same old law.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,

They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamour’d of growing out-doors,

Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,

Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses,

I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,

Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,

Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,

Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,

Scattering it freely forever.

15

The pure contralto sings in the organ loft,

The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp,

The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanksgiving dinner,

The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong arm,

The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready,

The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches,

The deacons are ordain’d with cross’d hands at the altar,

The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel,

The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and looks at the oats and rye,

The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm’d case,

(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother’s bed-room;)

The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,

He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript;

The malform’d limbs are tied to the surgeon’s table,

What is removed drops horribly in a pail;

The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by the bar-room stove,

The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat, the gate-keeper marks who pass,

The young fellow drives the express-wagon, (I love him, though I do not know him;)

The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,

The western turkey-shooting draws old and young, some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs,

Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece;

The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee,

As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them from his saddle,

The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their partners, the dancers bow to each other,

The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof’d garret and harks to the musical rain,

The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron,

The squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemm’d cloth is offering moccasins and bead-bags for sale,

The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut eyes bent sideways,

As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrown for the shore-going passengers,

The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister winds it off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,

The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago borne her first child,

The clean-hair’d Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine or in the factory or mill,

The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter’s lead flies swiftly over the note-book, the sign-painter is lettering with blue and gold,

The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,

The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him,

The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,

The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, (how the white sails sparkle!)

The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray,

The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser higgling about the odd cent;)

The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly,

The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open’d lips,

The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled neck,

The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other,

(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;)

The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries,

On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms,

The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold,

The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,

As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change,

The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar,

In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers;

WATCH THE VIDEO ON THEME: Thanksgiving Invitation Wording

The arrival of the Pilgrims and Puritans brought new Thanksgiving traditions to With the publication of Longfellow's best-selling poem The Courtship of Miles.

thanksgiving invite poem
Written by Niktilar
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