Poems about Gratitude

Poems about Gratitude

Whether you’re navigating through challenges or celebrating successes, embracing a grateful mindset can enrich your life and foster a deeper sense of happiness and contentment. Read below some of the Poems about Gratitude:

Boundless Thanks

In quiet moments, when the world is still,
I pause to reflect, my heart to fill.
With words unspoken, yet deeply true,
This verse is my gift, my thanks to you.

For in your presence, warmth I find,
A gentle touch, a kindred mind.
You gave me light when darkness fell,
A beacon bright, my guiding bell.

Through trials faced, and storms endured,
Your steadfast heart, my soul assured.
In laughter shared and tears we cried,
You stood by me, my faithful guide.

The smallest acts, your caring ways,
Transform my nights, enrich my days.
A simple smile, a thoughtful deed,
You met my every unvoiced need.

With every dawn and setting sun,
Know in my heart, you are the one
Whose kindness blooms in gratitude,
A love profound, in magnitude.

So here’s my thanks, in lines of rhyme,
For all you’ve done, throughout all time.
This poem’s breath, a humble part,
Of boundless thanks within my heart.

Those Winter Sundays


Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
"Those Winter Sundays" poem describes the father's routine of waking up early on winter Sundays to light fires and warm the house for his family. Despite his hard work and physical discomfort, the father receives no thanks or recognition for his efforts. The speaker recalls how he took these acts of love for granted and did not understand or appreciate his father's silent labor and care.

A Gift


Who is that creature
and who does he want?
Me, I trust. I do not
attempt to call out his
name for fear he will
tread on me. What do
you believe, he asks.
That we all want to be
alone, I reply, except when
we do not; that the world
was open to my sorrow
and ate most of it; that
today is a gift and I am
ready to receive you.
"A Gift" by Kathryn Starbuck is a reflective and contemplative poem that centers on the theme of unexpected grace and the simple yet profound gifts that life offers. The poem captures a moment of surprise and gratitude when the speaker receives an unexpected, intangible gift, which brings a sense of wonder and appreciation for the small, often overlooked aspects of life.

Sonnet: I Thank You


I thank you, kind and best beloved friend,
With the same thanks one murmurs to a sister,
When, for some gentle favor, he hath kissed her,
Less for the gifts than for the love you send,
Less for the flowers, than what the flowers convey;
If I, indeed, divine their meaning truly,
And not unto myself ascribe, unduly,
Things which you neither meant nor wished to say,
Oh! tell me, is the hope then all misplaced?
And am I flattered by my own affection?
But in your beauteous gift, methought I traced
Something above a short-lived predilection,
And which, for that I know no dearer name,
I designate as love, without love’s flame.
In this sonnet, Timrod thanks the addressee for their unwavering faith in him, particularly during times of doubt and hardship. The poem acknowledges the powerful impact of this support on his life and work, suggesting that it has been a source of inspiration and strength. The speaker's gratitude is profound, indicating that the encouragement he received has been crucial to his sense of self-worth and creative endeavors.


Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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.

Our cares are bold and push their way
Upon our thought and feeling.
They hang about us all the day,
Our time from pleasure stealing.

So unobtrusive many a joy
We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives
And conquers if we let it.

There’s not a day in all the year
But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
To brim the past’s wide measure.

But blessings are like friends, I hold,
Who love and labor near us.
We ought to raise our notes of praise
While living hearts can hear us.

Full many a blessing wears the guise
Of worry or of trouble.
Farseeing is the soul and wise
Who knows the mask is double.

But he who has the faith and strength
To thank his God for sorrow
Has found a joy without alloy
To gladden every morrow.

We ought to make the moments notes
Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;
The hours and days a silent phrase
Of music we are living.

And so the theme should swell and grow
As weeks and months pass o’er us,
And rise sublime at this good time,
A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

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