Philip Henry Savage

"'Tis grace to sing to nature, and to pray The God of nature, out of His large heart, To grant us knowledge of His human way; This is the whole of nature and of art."

""Something in the sense of morning Lifts the heart up to the sun." In our youth we may be pagan, God is many, and the One Great Supreme will wait till evening When our little day is done."

"Where wildness has been wilderness shall be, But give God time; and life is but a span, Nine inches, while before it and behind Stretches the garden of the cosmic gods."

"Lighter than dandelion down, Or feathers from the white moth’s wing, Out of the gates of bramble-town The silkweed goes a-gypsying."

"Thou hoarse Aristophanic mime, Grotesque Silenus of the slime, That dar'st to lift a comic voice Where thrushes worship and rejoice."

"The sun, this old November, Across the sodden slope, May bid the heart remember, But cannot bid it hope."

"New friends forbear, and let old friends remember With pity him who ends his course to-day; Nor heap with scorn his grave in dead December Whose life bore golden promises in May."