 One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. One day is there of the series termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, there was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such or such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by J. C. John, Montreal, November 2007. One day is there of the series, termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, where was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such or such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by James Gladwin, Somerset, November 2007. One day is there of the series, termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, where was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such were such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. One day is there of the series, termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, where was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such were such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by Mary Mack. One day is there of the series, termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, where was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such were such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. One day is there of the series by Emily Dickinson, read for LibriVox.org by Mike Love. One day is there of the series, termed Thanksgiving Day, celebrated part at table, part in memory. Neither patriarch nor pussy I dissect the play, seems it, to my hooded thinking, reflects holiday. Had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum, not an acre or a caption, where was once a room, not a mention whose small pebble wrinkled any bay, unto such were such assembly, to her Thanksgiving Day. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.