Thanksgiving

I never thought much of the folks who pray
 The Lord to make them thankful for a meal
Expecting Him to furnish all the food
And then provide them with the gratitude
 They haven’t grace to feel.

I never thought much of this yearly thanks,
 Either for what once happened long ago,
Or for “our constant mercies.” To my mind
If we’re to thank a Power that’s daily kind,
 Our annual’s too slow.

Suppose we spread Thanksgiving—hand it round—
 Give God an honest heartful every day;
And, while we’re being thankful, why not give
Some gratitude to those by whom we live—
 As well as stingy pay?

Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935) was an influential feminist thinker and writer from New England who lived in Los Angeles from 1888 to 1900. She is famous for a short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper,” and a book, Women and Economics, which was translated into seven languages and brought her to an international audience. This poem was published in The Forerunner, a magazine of stories, essays, reviews, and poems that she published between 1909 and 1910.
*Photo courtesy of Roger Marks.
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