Philip Henry Savage Quotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sun, this old November, </br> Across the sodden slope, </br> May bid the heart remember, </br> But cannot bid it hope.