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Take a moment to share one of these thoughtful quotes.

Of all the beautiful Thanksgiving traditions, expressing gratitude is one of the most meaningful customs that we do year after year. Perhaps you say Thanksgiving prayers with your loved ones or fill a gratitude jar with notes to read at the table. Maybe you take a moment to share a topical quote before digging into your hard-earned meal. If your family is in the latter camp, then these thoughtful Thanksgiving poems are the perfect place to turn for memorable holiday wisdom. Here, you'll find poetic Thanksgiving sayings and broader poems about gratitude, family, and food (obviously)! Plus, if you're planning a family or feast photo, these quotes make for great Thanksgiving captions for Instagram.

If you want something a little light-hearted to kick things off, there are a few poems that keep things simple. There are also some that make great Thanksgiving poems for kids, like the memorable "Thanksgiving Day" by Lydia Maria Child. For Thanksgiving messages that speak to the deeper meaning of the day, read Albert Ríos's poem that's all about the power of giving. And for stanzas fit for foodies and memories of cooking in the kitchen, read Elizabeth Alexander's poem about how butter reminds her of her mom. You'll find plenty of Thanksgiving quotes ahead, so the only thing to do now is pick one!

"Praise the wet snow falling early. Praise the shadow my neighbor's chimney casts on the tile roof even this gray October day that should, they say, have been golden. Praise the invisible sun burning beyond the white cold sky, giving us light and the chimney's shadow."

"Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest; When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before, What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?"

"Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand, Mine to yours, yours to mine. You gave me blue and I gave you yellow. Together we are simple green. You gave me What you did not have, and I gave you What I had to give—together, we made Something greater from the difference."

"I remember here by the fire, In the flickering reds and saffron, They came in a ramshackle tub, Pilgrims in tall hats, Pilgrims of iron jaws, Drifting by weeks on beaten seas, And the random chapters say They were glad and sang to God."

"Remember your birth, how your mother struggled to give you form and breath. You are evidence of her life, and her mother's, and hers. Remember your father. He is your life, also. Remember the earth whose skin you are: red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth brown earth, we are earth."

“We’d sit there in the kitchen, licking our fingers and laughing at my mother, who was probably scrubbing something with bleach, or watching Bonanza, or thinking how stupid it was to be burning that nasty old bread in that cast iron skillet. When I told her that I’d made my first-ever pan of hot water cornbread, and that my daddy had branded it glorious, she sniffed and kept mopping the floor over and over in the same place."

"America, I sing back. Sing back what sung you in. Sing back the moment you cherished breath. Sing you home into yourself and back to reason. Oh, before America began to sing, I sung her to sleep, held her cradleboard, wept her into day."

"Over the river, and through the wood, To have a first-rate play. Hear the bells ring 'Ting-a-ling-ding', Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!"

"It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes And roofs of villages, on woodland crests And their aerial neighborhoods of nests Deserted, on the curtained window-panes Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests! Gone are the birds that were our summer guests, With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!"

"The sun hath shed its kindly light, Our harvesting is gladly o’er Our fields have felt no killing blight, Our bins are filled with goodly store. From pestilence, fire, flood, and sword We have been spared by thy decree, And now with humble hearts, O Lord, We come to pay our thanks to thee."

"Bring forth the harp, and let us sweep its fullest, loudest string. The bee below, the bird above, are teaching us to sing A song for merry harvest; and the one who will not bear His grateful part partakes a boon he ill deserves to share."

"Let us be thankful—not only because Since last our universal thanks were told We have grown greater in the world’s applause, And fortune’s newer smiles surpass the old— But thankful for all things that come as alms From out the open hand of Providence:— The winter clouds and storms—the summer calms— The sleepless dread—the drowse of indolence."

"We who are here present thank the Great Spirit that we are here to praise Him. We thank Him that He has created men and women, and ordered that these beings shall always be living to multiply the earth. We thank Him for making the earth and giving these beings its products to live on. We thank Him for the water that comes out of the earth and runs for our lands. We thank Him for all the animals on the earth."

"Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew, While he waited to know that his warning was true, And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain."

"My mother loves butter more than I do, more than anyone. She pulls chunks off the stick and eats it plain, explaining cream spun around into butter! Growing up we ate turkey cutlets sautéed in lemon and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles, butter melting in small pools in the hearts of Yorkshire puddings, butter better than gravy staining white rice yellow, butter glazing corn in slipping squares."

"Valleys lay in sunny vapor, And a radiance mild was shed From each tree that like a taper At a feast stood. Then we said, 'Our feast, too, shall soon be spread, Of good Thanksgiving turkey."

"We walk on starry fields of white And do not see the daisies; For blessings common in our sight We rarely offer praises. We sigh for some supreme delight To crown our lives with splendor, And quite ignore our daily store Of pleasures sweet and tender."

"Lord God, the winter has been sweet and brief In this fair land; For us the budded willow and the leaf, The peaceful strand. For us the silver nights and golden days, The violet mist; The pearly clouds pierced with vibrating rays Of amethyst."

"We give because someone gave to us. We give because nobody gave to us. We give because giving has changed us. We give because giving could have changed us. We have been better for it, We have been wounded by it— Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet, Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails."

"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 an’ men."

"Mown meadows skirt the standing wheat; I linger, for the hay is sweet, New-cut and curing in the sun. Like furrows, straight, the windrows run, Fallen, gallant ranks that tossed and bent When, yesterday, the west wind went A-rioting through grass and grain."

"That I could be this human at this time breathing, looking, seeing, smelling That I could be this moment at this time resting, calmly moving, feeling That I could be this excellence at this time sudden, changed, peaceful, & woke To all my friends who have been with me in weakness when water falls rush down my two sides."

"Thanksgiving comes but once a year, But when it comes it brings good cheer. For in my storehouse on this day Are piles of good things hid away. Each day I've worked from early morn To gather acorns, nuts, and corn, Till now I've plenty and to spare Without a worry or a care."

"The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live. The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on."

"I didn't know I was grateful for such late-autumn bent-up cornfields yellow in the after-harvest sun before the cold plow turns it all over into never."

"What if the little rain should say, 'So small a drop as I Can ne'er refresh the thirsty earth, I'll tarry in the sky!' What if a shining beam of noon Should in its fountain stay, Because its feeble light alone Is not enough for day!"

"When I think how far the onion has traveled just to enter my stew today, I could kneel and praise all small forgotten miracles, crackly paper peeling on the drainboard, pearly layers in smooth agreement, the way the knife enters onion and onion falls apart on the chopping block, a history revealed."

"T for time to be together, turkey, talk and tangy weather H for harvest stored away, home and hearth and holiday A for Autumn's frosty art, and abundance in the heart N for neighbors and November, nice things, new things to remember K for kitchen, kettle's croon, kith and kin expected soon S for sizzles, sights and sounds, and something special that abounds That spells THANKS for joy in living And a jolly good Thanksgiving."

"Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell, A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof: Under the spars of which I lie Both soft, and dry; Where Thou my chamber for to ward Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me, while I sleep."

"Amazement fills my heart to-night, Amaze and awful fears; I am a ship that sees no light, But blindly onward steers. Flung toward heaven’s toppling rage, Sunk between steep and steep, A lost and wondrous fight I wage With the embattled deep."