"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> Gre… - Philip Henry Savage

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

'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.

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.