LIV
Thanksgiving Day
One day is there of the seriesTermed 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 subtractionFrom the early sum,Not an acre or a captionWhere was once a room,
Not a mention, whose small pebbleWrinkled any bay,—Unto such, were such assembly,‘T were Thanksgiving day.