Philip Henry Savage

"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."

"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."

"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."

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

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